


Existentialism

by CHROMODYNAMIC



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Androids, Artificial Intelligence, Breaches of Ethical Conduct, Complete, Cyborgs, Gen, Mystery, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 49,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2473316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHROMODYNAMIC/pseuds/CHROMODYNAMIC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The late 21st Century. A time of machines and wonderful technology. Despite this, there is a certain John Moody who is not happy with life. He is not okay, and that is exactly why he's just begun on the long, painful path to drinking himself into oblivion. Through mere chance, he stumbles across an unusual specimen in a tavern one night - a 16 year-old girl who calls herself Hatsune Miku, whatever that means. John finds himself unable to walk away from this enigma of a girl. As he learns more and more about who she is and what she is, John becomes tangled in a daunting conspiracy that challenges not only corporate and capitalist values, but the very nature of humanity itself.</p><p>- - - - -</p><p>This story focuses on themes of ethical crimes, philosophical questions and psychological effects<br/>Don't worry, this isn't an oc-cc ship. There's no romantic interest, it's purely platonic. Expect more of a brother-sister or father-daughter bond to form.<br/>Don't be scared to give me constructive criticism and/or your opinion on the fanfic so far; I don't bite.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coincidence

The drink was fizzy and almost tastelessly sweet, but it would do. I sipped it quietly at the bar as I watched the world pass me by. I checked my watch. 11:07 PM, 22nd December. It was the Christmas season, and everybody seemed to be full to the brim with the spirit.

I was filled with spirits of a different kind; the alcoholic kind. "Bloody crazed… people…" I muttered to myself, my usual eloquence lost to alcohol. I downed the last of my drink.

The bartender came along, aware that my glass was empty. Bartending wasn't exactly a popular job, so like other unpopular jobs it was taken by robos. Not the complex kind, either, the preprogrammed kind with an extremely limited AI.

This bartender was no exception. She was on the stylised side of the uncanny valley; in no way creepy but still nevertheless both visibly humanoid and visibly robotic. "Sir, you've taken two drinks. Legally, I can offer you two more." Her voice had an obvious mechanical resonance to it.

I nodded, handing over a few creds. "'Nother Vodka and Coke, then, please." The bartender-robo whipped it up in barely a minute, and I downed it in less. I stared at the laminated synthwood intently, fixated on the ebb and flow of the fake grain. It was probably time for me to leave, but...

Something in the tavern caught my slightly drunk eye. Two guys had just been roughing up some poor girl who was clearly doing her best to escape. Her best wasn't enough. Even though her hood was up, I could tell from her body language that she was most certainly afraid. She outright left the tavern, but that pair of... ruffians were nothing if not persistent, and simply followed her out.

I sighed, knowing that I might as well balance out my sinful drinking with a good deed - not that I believed in that nonsense, of course, but I liked metaphors. Besides, it seemed like nobody else in the tavern had even noticed the altercation. I sighed again, louder this time, and arose from my stool. The world swayed for a moment as my body adjusted to its inebriation. Synthetic alcohol - Synthohol, we called it when we were too drunk to say synthetic - was not quite as potent as the real thing, but I could nevertheless feel its effects.

"Come again," The bartender said automatically.

"I will," I replied absentmindedly, flexing my shoulders. Hopefully they wouldn't be too much trouble.

I approached them as soon as I had exited the tavern. They had backed the girl against the wall, and they were getting uncomfortably close for my liking, nevermind hers. I cleared my throat noisily, and three faces looked my way - one hopeful, one angry, one surprised.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," I uttered calmly without a hint of the apprehension I had. "Now, I may have had three glasses of vodka 'n' coke, but I'm fairly certain I could beat you with one hand behind my back." For effect, I drew my left hand out of sight. The glove of my right hand squeaked slightly as I clenched my fist. "So I'm warning you. Back away from her."

One of them stepped forward whilst the other pinned the girl to the wall. "And what're you gonna do 'bout it?" He grunted like a neanderthal.

I grinned, silently bracing for the punch I knew was coming. "I'm going to get violent."

He grinned too, though his was much more vicious. "Me too." Before I could reply, a bundle of rock-hard knuckles smashed into my jaw. I stumbled backwards, reeling from the sudden flare of pain, but I was fine.

I cradled my jaw with my left hand, tasting some small amount of blood in my mouth where my lip had been sliced open on my own tooth. It was that cut which stung the most. I exercised my jaw momentarily, making sure I was fine.

"Alright," I admitted, reading the shock on his face. He'd expected me to go down. "Solid hit. My turn."

I didn't even bother to clench my fist. There was a tremendous crack as my begloved backhand connected with the side of his face; immediately he was out of it.

The other guy was stunned by my show of hidden strength, and the girl took the opportunity to give him a solid kick to the bollocks. He fell backwards, in almost as much pain as his comrade, who was staggering to his feet. It took a moment for them both to decide to dash away and melt into the night, falling over several times as they did so. I chuckled as their uselessness against me.

Then I turned to the girl. She was staring at me intently from within her hood, with a gaze that spoke of both thankfulness and curiosity. Her hair and eyes were stark black, though I was fairly certain that was due to the orange light. Her frame appeared to be relatively light - a few kilos lighter than me, a few centimetres shorter.

"Are you alright?" I asked, hoping I had done the right thing.

She nodded, smiling. "I am now. Thank you." Wow. That was a really nice voice. It was sincere, sweet almost, but just had the tiniest hint of an underlying edge. It suited her.

I made a dismissive gesture. "Naa, it was nothing," I felt good to have done the right thing for once. I hadn't helped anyone since... that... eventful day.

Shaking her head in disagreement, she spoke again. "You took a punch to the jaw for me. You slapped a guy unconscious. That was not nothing." She frowned abruptly, seemingly with incomprehension. "You backhanded him... and knocked him out. How?"

Before I realised what I had been doing, I subconsciously hid my right arm behind my back. "Um... technique?"

She looked sceptical. She thought I was lying; she was correct. "Well... okay."

I almost sighed with relief. That was one subject I did not like talking about, and combined with recent events...

"Hey," She began with renewed eagerness. Had she really taken to me that easily? "I didn't catch your name."

I suppressed a belch. Accursed alcohol. "John." I said, at least sobre enough to remember my own name. "John Moody."

"Can I call you Moody?"

That made me smile. In that moment, I was surprised that nickname had never been used before. "Sure. Hey, what's your name?"

Her back straightened almost imperceptibly. "How do you do? I'm Hatsune Miku!" She offered her hand, and I shook it. The skin was warm and incredibly soft, her digits appearing to be fragile. It was a firm handshake, though, implying she had some unusual underlying strength.

So, she was called Hatsune Miku. Weird name. Had a nice ring to it, though. "Is that Japanese?"

She nodded. "How did you know? Do you speak Japanese?"

I shook my head. "No, I just... I don't know. It sounded Japanese, I guess. I suppose that means your forename is Miku." Miku was still clutching my hand tightly. "You can let go now."

She let go very suddenly. Was she blushing? I couldn't tell. I glanced again at my wristwatch. 11:16. "It's getting late," I noted, hoping this would lead somewhere but knowing it wouldn't. "I've had a few drinks and I should probably get going. I'll see you round, Miku." With that, I left for my apartment.

The dusk was growing colder. My very breath had turned white. I pulled my jacket around me tighter, shivering, all the alcoholic and adrenal warmth of before having rapidly disapparated.

My gaze was drawn upwards for the lack of anything interesting to look at. I was not exactly an avid stargazer, but I knew a few of the constellations. I could see three stars in a near perfect line. "Orion's belt," I whispered to myself for no actual reason. For a moment I was searching for my zodiac symbol before remembering that it was on the other side of the planet right now.

Accursed alcohol. Why did it have to taste so good?

My mind moved on. That Miku girl. I wondered what such an... innocent looking girl had been doing in a tavern in the first place. I thought about her appearance again. I raised my eyebrow. She should have been wearing a longer skirt. Didn't matter that she had overknee boots, that skirt was more of a belt. Naa, she should've straight-up not been in the bar.

A longer skirt would've probably helped though. I shook my head, trying to evict the images of her waist area from my mind.

"Kind of a cutie, ain't she?" I said to myself without prompt.

"Eh, I guess." I replied, with a half shrug.

"Shame you'll probably never see her again." I muttered solemnly, fully aware that it was likely the truth.

"Eh?" I realised that I hadn't actually thought about it.

"Well, you know. The odds of you coming across her again are slim to none."

"Oh, really?" I said, determined to prove myself wrong. I noticed something about my shadow. I blinked, realising it was an amalgamation of shadows. That's when I heard the footsteps that had been my constant companion - and those footsteps weren't mine.

I turned around. Miku had been following me the entire time. "Oh." I stared her blankly. "You were following me the entire time?"

Miku nodded. "Yup."

Oh dear. "You heard everything I said?"

"Yeah, every last word." At this point, I was internally squirming with sheer disconcertion, but I tried to look as calm as possible. "Didn't make any sense, though."

I breathed a sigh of relief, louder than I meant to. Miku squinted in confusion. "What's the matter?"

The squirming started again, like there was a rodent foraging in my gut. "Uh, nothing, just..." What should I say? I didn't have the slightest hint of an idea. Instead, I opted to change the subject. "Why were you following me?"

She looked sheepish. "I don't have anywhere to stay."

Was Miku trying to play the pity game? "Why don't you get a hotel room? They don't cost that much."

"I don't have any money." She was trying to play the pity game. The bad thing was that I could feel it working. I groaned with exasperation.

"You know what? I'm not even going to try to argue with you." I grumbled, trying my hardest to be angry but just not managing it. Was I too drunk to be angry with her or something? I mean, I didn't remember having drunk quite that much. "Just stay the night at my place."

There was a sparkle of gratitude in Miku's eyes. "Really?"

I glared in reply. "Don't make me change my mind. I'm not prone to being charitable, but something about you..." I trailed off, unable to find the correct word.

She looked very interested in what I was going to say. "What about me?"

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. This could be problematic if I said the wrong thing. "Something about you intrigues me." I shrugged nonchalantly, hardly paying attention to whatever I was saying. I started to walk again, and I could hear her dogging my heels. I have to say, the amount Miku trusted me already was a little confusing. I wasn't a trustworthy guy; or at least I didn't think I was. "I don't know what. Just something... I just feel like there's something more to this situation, something more to you than meets the eye..."


	2. Truth

It was only when we got to my apartment that I realised I had been rambling for ten minutes straight. I turned to Miku as I fished around in my pocket for my keys. "Sorry."

Miku looked confused. Again. "What for?"

"Rambling." How could she be so oblivious? "I was rambling, and you didn't need to hear that. The semi-drunken ramblings of a depressed mechanic with too much time on his hands. I'm doing it again. Sorry."

Miku smiled at me reassuringly. "It's okay, it's just who you are."

Well, that was a relief. I smiled back. It was hard not to. "Thanks for understanding." I found my keys, unlocked the door and went inside. It was only when the door closed behind me that I realised how hot it was. "Bloody seventh heaven, it's hot in here. I should turn the thermo down..." I took the glove on my right hand off, stuffing it into my jacket pocket, before taking off the aforementioned jacket and tossing it on to the couch. Deciding it was still too hot, I also removed my shirt.

I heard someone behind me gasp, and only then remembered that I had company. I turned, thinking that Miku had gasped at me taking my shirt off, but that was not the case. Instead of her staring at my bare torso, she was instead staring at my right arm.

It was then that I remembered I had a prosthetic arm. Gulping, I looked down at it. My arm was a marvel of engineering. It was composed of a piston-driven industrial talonite endoskeleton surrounded by hundreds of stainless steel muscle fibres, covered with detachable flexible tungsten armour plating. The augment composed my entire arm, as well as some of my shoulder.

I hated it. I wanted my real arm back. "Uhh, yeah... I have a replacement arm."

Miku removed her hood, staring at me intently. In the clear light of my apartment, I could see that she had an obsessive amount of startlingly blue hair, tied into two gargantuan ponytails. In fact, she had so much hair that even though it was going down the neck of her hoodie, it was coming out of the bottom and all the way down to her knees. Wow. That was a lot of hair. Her eyes were blue too, though they were closer to a sapphire blue than the tropical ocean colour of her hair. They were very piercing in the way they were looking at me, almost as if they were staring directly into my soul. I realised she had said something, but I of course had been too busy staring at her to pay attention to what she had been saying. "Uh, what?"

Miku sighed. "Why didn't you tell me you had an augment?"

Strange. She called it an augment, I called it a prosthetic. Was there a difference? I couldn't remember. "I... I don't like talking about it. Besides, you never asked."

She frowned, obviously not understanding why I would be ashamed of such a fantastic and obviously superior mechanical substitute. "Why?"

I took a deep breath. Miku was going to ask a lot of very awkward questions, I could tell. "Later. I'll tell you later." I cleared my throat noisily when I realised she was now staring at my torso instead of my arm. The noise made her look at me in the eye. "Maybe I should put a shirt on."

A little blood rushed to her cheeks, which was rather endearing. "Uh, no!" Miku blurted out without thinking. "I mean, uh, it's fine by me if you don't wear one. It's your apartment, you do what you want."

I stared at her with a hardened expression for a few seconds before becoming animated again. "Okay. Take a seat, I'll be right back." I headed off to the kitchen to sort out the thermo.

The way she'd reacted was comedy, really. I'd caught her staring at me, and she'd been flustered. I was a mechanic, so I had to stay healthy in order to properly do my job. I wasn't exactly rippling with muscle - I was just well toned - so I'd never considered that I might be attractive in any way. I shrugged absently, twisting the dial on the thermo down to something more comfortable.

I reentered the room to find that Miku had taken off her hoodie and taken a seat on my couch. Her choice of clothing was... different, to say the least. As I had seen earlier, on her bottom half she was wearing black overknee boots with blue soles and a black skirt with a blue edge. Now that she had taken off her hoodie, I could see that on her top half she was wearing a grey waistcoat - with a collar, too - with a blue tie. On her arms she wore black detached sleeves with blue trim.

It took a moment for me to be able to take her appearance in. I shook the confusion from my mind and sat down to her left, mindful of my shirtlessness.

"So, what do you do?" Miku asked me, clearly struggling to maintain eye contact. It was amusing.

"I'm a mechanic-for-hire," I explained, noticing that the air was slowly getting cooler. "I repair whatever needs repairing, be it a motor vehicle, a robo or a blender." I gestured to my replacement arm. "The tungsten casing on this baby didn't come with it. I scrounged up enough credits to be able to make it." Miku nodded in acknowledgement, clearly interested. Time to throw the question back. "What do you do?"

She smiled openly. Clearly whatever her area of work was, she liked it. "I'm a bilingual singer-songwriter."

Okay, that piqued my interest. "Have you written any songs?"

Miku stared at me blankly, before looking very disappointed in herself. "Um, no. Not yet."

I sighed. That was disappointing. "Oh, that's too bad." How can you be a singer-songwriter if you've never written any songs? A more pressing observation struck me. "Why were you in the tavern?"

There it was, that blank stare again. "I don't know."

Oh, for the love of... "You don't know?"

Miku nodded. "I don't know."

I gnawed on the inside on my cheek. Why couldn't she remember such a thing? "Well, okay, where are you from? Why don't you have any money?"

No, no, no, no. Once more, I was given that blank, bemused stare. "I-I don't know!"

Now I was getting concerned. There was a growing itch on my right palm even though it was a prosthetic. That's when I noticed a red mark on her left shoulder. I leaned closer. Miku shied away. "What are you doing?"

I grabbed a hold of her arm, leaning closer. "Stay still, damn it." It appeared to be some kind of designation. There was only one reason for this that I could remember.

She squirmed with discomfort. "Seriously, let go! What are you doing?!"

"I'm looking." There was no other explanation. It was not reassuring.

I scrambled back from her, slightly disturbed by my revelation. "You're an android!"

Miku looked at me like it had been obvious the entire time. "Well, yeah. You didn't know?"

I grunted, comforted a little by her lack of a hostile reaction. "You didn't say!"

"You didn't ask!" She shouted back at me.

"I shouldn't need to! This is not a level playing field right now! You can at least tell from appearance that I'm a cyborg -" I paused. I was cyborg. "Oh, oh no, I've never thought about that before, I'm a cyborg - but, but, with you you're..." I paused, unable to find the correct term.

Miku cocked her head. "What?"

"Disturbingly human." I meshed my fingers together, feeling cool tungsten and steel clash against warm flesh. It was a surprisingly apt statement considering my present state of mind. "I mean, when we shook hands earlier it was..."

She looked slightly annoyed. "Stop trailing off like that. What was it like?"

Warm. Soft. Inviting. "Like shaking hands with another human." I shook the others words from my head due to what they could connote with. Now was not a good time to be thinking about that, especially in a semi drunken stupor. The words didn't want to leave, they clung to the recesses of my mind like sentient vines. That's when I realised my head hurt.

"So," I began, hoping to change the direction of my train of thought. "You're an android."

"Yeah."

"Ah." And thus a heavy silence entered the room. I almost chuckled at how awkward it was. I got up to grab a drink from the kitchen. I yawned as I opened the fridge, feeling a wave of cold air roll over my bare skin. Suppressing a shiver, my hand reached for a bottle in the fridge. It took a me a minute or two to find a bottle opener. I glared at my robotic hand as I opened the bottle with the other.

I had almost drunk from the bottle when I heard Miku. "Are you drinking again?"

I stared at the bottle. "Uhhh... No!" I smiled to myself slyly. "Not yet, anyway..."

"I heard that!"

I groaned with annoyance. How the hell did she do that? "Heard what?"

"I can smell the alcohol!"

I frowned. I couldn't smell the alcohol, and I was scant inches away. I shrugged. "Hey, you're an android! So... shut up!" I brought the bottle up and tipped it, swigging nearly half of it. I took the bottle back down, inhaled, and almost threw up. I gulped down the burny mess of whatever I had eaten earlier with haste, and poured my drink down the drain. "Accursed... alcohol..." I grumbled with a belch. "I'm gonna find whoever invented it... and kick 'em. And shake their hand."

I discarded the bottle, and jumped when I heard the clashing of glass on glass. I finally noticed the growing pile of bottles that in my recent intoxication had gone unnoticed. I swore at the sheer scale of the thing. I opened the fridge again, and was met with no alternatives in what to drink. With a groan, I closed the fridge again.

Grumbling, I returned to the living room and sat back by Miku.

She stared at me. Was that concern? I couldn't tell. "You look terrible."

My entire upper body turned to look at her. I made sure my expression was blank. "And you have blue hair." I turned back and stared at the floor.

I saw a hand come to rest on my shoulder; I didn't feel it. It was only then I noticed her skin had a rather remarkable alabaster element to it. Ow. It hurt to think big words. "If you don't mind me asking," Miku said, the concern obvious in her voice. Why did she care about me? I was a stranger. Well, I suppose I saved her from a sticky situation... "Why are you drinking so much synthohol?"

I gulped. Eh, I might as well tell her. It wasn't exactly like I had anything better to do. "Uh, it's the same story as to how I got this pile o' junk," I replied, shaking my prosthetic arm. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the urge to empty my stomach. "Basically, it happened two years 'go. Ya see, I was in a vehi - ahem - vehicular accident with my dad. I lost my right arm and some o' my shuh... um, shoulder. Oh, and my dad has been comatose ever since."

"Oh, I'm -"

"But wait!" I cried, paying her little attention. "There's more! Three days ago - two? I can't remember - he died. And I've not had any work for a few months and money is short and... and..." I trailed off as I realised my vision had become blurred with tears.

"What? And what?" Her concern was touching, but it was verging on disturbing.

"And I don't have a third thing." I sniffled, wiping away the excess moisture. I leaned back, closing my eyes. "My life isn't exactly perfect right now, if you haven't noticed." I frowned. Why did she care? Like, at all? We were strangers! "Why do you care?"

For once, Miku looked uncertain. "I... I just do, okay? You fended off those two guys, you're letting me stay overnight. I owe you."

"I know, I know," I grunted, trying to grip on to consciousness. "You just... ech." I stumbled to my feet. "You can sleep in my bed."

"Wh-what?" Oh. I saw the misunderstanding.

"No, no, not like thaaaaat. I'll sleep on the couch." Abruptly, I collapsed back on to the couch. I felt tired. Really tired. "You know somethin', Miku?"

I heard her acknowledge, but didn't quite catch what it was exactly. "You know somethin'? You're pretty." There was not enough time in between me speaking and me falling asleep to regret what I had said.


	3. Consequence

The morning light was piercingly, beautifully bright as I opened my tired eyes. It was agony. I clamped them shut again, any hope of returning to sleep dashed aside by the painful buzz of the hangover.

With a vague feeling of deja vu, I muttered to myself, "Accursed alcohol." Why had I been sleeping on the couch?

I clambered to my feet, knowing that I would feel no better by just lying around. Yawning cavernously, I leaned back and stretched out my arms. I knew just how to get rid of a hangover - there were pills for that. I supposed it was lucky that I hadn't thrown up already.

That's when I noticed that my mechanical arm had locked up in an L-shape. I could barely even twitch my fingers. Grumbling and squinting against the blinding light, I fumbled my way to the kitchen.

I could barely remember the layout of my cupboards, nevermind wherever the pills were. It took me a few minutes to work out where I kept the medicine, and a few more to find the right one. I poured myself a glass of water, took two oblong cream-colour pills and swallowed them with watery assistance. By now, I could move the shoulder joint of my currently useless appendage.

I don't know how long I waited, standing there idly, blank faced and blank minded. The pain throbbed away gently until it was something less severe. I only noticed my arm had started working again was when I had started to trace circles on the marbled worktop.

I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard movement behind me. I turned to face it, and upon observing Miku I remembered what happened last night. Or, at least, I thought I did.

"How're you feeling, Moody?" She asked sweetly.

Never had a nickname been more fitting. "My head is full of needles and my legs are made of rock." I replied, rubbing my eyes. "How well did you sleep last night, foreign bed and all?"

Miku smiled at me like a ray of sunshine. Her expression was the polar opposite to the way I felt. It did not help. "I slept great, actually. You have a really comfy bed."

A thought struck me, both rational and improbable. "Miku, we didn't... do anything... last night, right?"

Her expression lost a little of its cheer, which actually made me a little happier. Heh, kind of like conservation of emotion. "If you're meaning what I think you are, no. We didn't."

I splurted out a twisted parody of a giggle. "Eh, to sleep with you I'd probably need some kind of robo-"

Miku cut me off abruptly. "No, Moody, that's not funny."

The distorted chuckle left me again. "Yes it is,"

"No, it's not."

I sighed. It wasn't possible to win an argument with her. "Suit yourself. I thought it was giggle worthy." The giggle returned with a vengeance when I realised the term giggle worthy was in of itself giggle worthy. Ow. It hurt to laugh.

I gulped down the laughter, trying to avoid giving myself hilarious internal bleeding. My left hand brushed against something on the cabinet, cool and smooth. Quite naturally, I looked at it. It was a kitchen knife that I had obviously thought was fine to leave lying around. I picked it up, deciding to put it wherever it belonged, and promptly fell over.

Grumbling as per usual, I hoisted myself back to my feet and dusted myself off. Miku was wide-eyed. "Um, Moody. Your arm."

I looked at my arm. There was nothing wrong with it, I hadn't even grazed the skin. "Don't worry, I'm fine." I glanced around for the sharp object I'd dropped. "Where's the knife?"

Miku pointed at my right arm. "The other arm, Moody."

Befuddled, I brought my right arm up. The knife was sticking in it, the point just visible on the other side to the handle. It appeared to have brushed aside the steel fibres and gone straight through the gap in between the two 'bones' of the lower arm. "Oh," I said with a stupefied grin. "That looks odd." I stared at the faux injury intently, merely because it looked weird.

"You don't feel that?" Miku stepped closer, and for some reason poked the handle.

"Nope," I explained, making the knife move by flexing my fingers. "I have no feeling in my prosthetic, apart from some limited tactile sense in my fingertips." I could tell from the lack of change in her facial expression that Miku had no idea what I meant. "I have a sense of touch in my fingers, and nothing else."

"Incredible..." Miku whispered, staring in awe at the arm. I reached over with my other hand and pulled the knife out. The blade seemed to have been sharpened by my muscles. Weird.

"Yeah," I acknowledged, putting the knife away. "I suppose it is." Maybe having a prosthetic, no, an augment wasn't so bad after all. "You want to see something else pretty cool?" I didn't need her to answer; I would have done it either way.

She grinned, rather overeager. "Okay!" All the more reason to do it. I fished a scrap of paper out of my pocket. I hung it over my mechanical hand and did something incredibly simple. I snapped my middle finger over my thumb, sending a bright ochre spark into the paper. The spark caught, a single spot blackening. I placed the piece of paper in my steel palm. Then it burst into flame.

Miku watched, enchanted, as the tiny white chunk burned into a crumpled brown mess. "Wow."

I stared at her with a mixture of amazement, confusion and pity. It was like she'd never seen fire before. I coughed, wiping the ashes on my trousers. "Uh, yeah, I can't click my fingers without the risk of setting things on fire."

Trying to move swiftly on from how disturbingly naive she was, I glanced at the window. The sunlight still made my head throb. I swore under my breath. I scratched my stomach, then realised I was still shirtless.

"Ah, sweet Christ, Miku, you don't need to see this." I mumbled, only half caring.

"Eh?" No. She's not allowed to say that... That's my thing.

"Some half-naked cyborg with issues. You don't need to see that."

Miku laughed. "Even with a shirt on, you're still a cyborg with issues."

I laughed too. Strange how this android had a sense of humour. I had met androids before, one or two, but they'd never had a sense of humour. They'd never laughed. I'd go so far as to say they were emotionless, but they weren't. There had always been an air of… well, I suppose it was contempt. But with Miku, there was none of that. There was just a kind of innocence.

I took a breath and started to head out of the kitchen. "I'm gonna get changed. I've had these trousers on for… uh…" I counted the hours in my head. It was more than I expected. "Twenty one hours."

I had almost left the kitchen when something struck me. I turned on the spot to face Miku. "What about you? How long have you had those clothes on for?"

"I changed them this morning, before you woke up."

I frowned. How was that possible? It wasn't, unless she had the capacity to create fresh clothes from whatever material she found. She didn't, I could infer that much. "How the hell did you do that? You had one set of clothes." Unless, of course, she had been wearing two sets of clothes at the same time, in which case… what?

Miku gave me a look that had an element of pity to it. "I had a bag with me. It had an extra set of clothes in it." I frowned inwardly, trying to remember. Miku smiled again. "I think you were a little too drunk to realise, and too hung over to remember."

I nodded. "Probably." With that, I left for my room. To be honest, I was a little anxious about whatever state she'd left the room in. It was my sanctum personalis, of course, so it was quite natural I would be concern as to its state of being. Or not, I didn't know. I'd never asked anyone about it, so I'd just assumed so.

To my utmost surprise, the room was actually tidier than when I'd last seen it. Very much unlike myself, Miku obviously hadn't liked the idea of sleeping in a vaguely messy room and so had voluntarily opted to clean it up a little. The bed was made and everything. It took me a moment to take it all in. I looked out of the door again, then back to the room. "Miku?" I asked in a raised voice, wishing to learn of her motives.

"Yes?" I heard her reply. I also heard the noises of cutlery, maybe cups, moving. What was she looking for?

I shook my head. I was digressing somewhat from the point. "You didn't have to clean my room up."

Her voice was tinged with a little humour. Did she find that funny? Why? I didn't. I found it confusing. "Yes I did!"

"No you didn't!" I replied, hoping that this wouldn't devolve into a childish back-and-forth between us.

I heard the noise of water boiling. Was she making drinks? "I didn't feel comfortable sleeping amongst your mess."

That was the first vaguely offensive thing she'd said to me so far, which was surprising considering how much of a flawed individual I was. I just nodded. Her observations were truthful, so there was no point in arguing.

Getting changed was rather a struggle. I had barely gotten my shirt on when I heard a knock at my bedroom door. Suppressing a sigh at being rushed, I shuffled over to the door and opened it. It was, of course, Miku. In her hand she held one of my mugs.

"Coffee?" She said, handing me the steaming drink.

To this I was mildly surprised. Of all the things I had expected her to do, make me coffee was not one of them. I shrugged, accepting the piping hot drink. "Thanks," I was about to ask why she had made me coffee, but I knew that she would have the same excuse as before - She owed me.

I took a gulp. Sure enough, it was piping hot. It was almost painfully hot, almost. My eyes widened in partial shock. Despite the heat, it was still a good cup of coffee. "How is it?" Miku asked eagerly, pining for my approval for some reason.

I nodded. "It's good. Where was the milk?"

Miku raised one eyebrow. "In the fridge."

I lowered both. "I couldn't find it last night."

Her other eyebrow raised too. "You were drunk."

"Oh." That made sense. I had been too drunk to find the damn milk. I would have slapped myself in the face for being such an idiot if my only free hand hadn't been cybernetic. Instead, I gestured toward the couch again. "Come, let us sit. We have much to talk about."

And so we sat. "So," I began in between sips. "Tell me about yourself, Miku."

That blank stare from last night had returned. "What is there to tell?"

Uh, what? There was plenty to tell. Granted, most of it was likely trivial, but it was better than nothing. With a grunt of dissatisfaction, I decided on where to start. It had to be basic and simple, something a child could tell you, and I'd work up from there. "Alright. How old are you and when is your birthday?"

"I'm 16, and my birthday is the 31st of August." Well, at least she knew that one. That was a relief. I took another gulp. Damn, she made a killer cup of coffee.

This next question was one I was hoping to get a definitive answer to, though I seriously doubted that I would. "Where do you come from?"

"Umm..." Miku looked introspective. Not a good sign. "I don't know. Japan, I suppose."

I nodded. This girl - this android - absolutely befuddled me. It was like her whole persona was based around amnesia. "Any surrogate family?"

"None that I'm aware of." That was the answer I had been expecting.

Time for a more light-hearted question. "What's your deal? What makes you click?"

"Music!" Miku replied happily. "It's what I was made for."

Interesting. I remembered her saying that she was a singer-songwriter. "Which genres?"

Suddenly Miku stood up and spread her arms. "All of them!"

I just stared at her. That reaction was a little off putting. I wasn't going to ask her another question like that for fear of my sanity. I decided to fling a question out of the blue just to see where it would lead. "What is your earliest memory?"

Miku's expression changed instantly. Where joy had been, it was replaced with panicked confusion. "I, uh, um... The tavern."

I almost spat out my drink. I gulped down the mouthful that had almost been airborne. "What?!" Impossible. "But that wasn't even twelve hours go!"

Her expression saddened, Miku stared at me with cloudy eyes. "I know."

I felt very uncomfortable all of a sudden. I shuffled in my seat awkwardly. Now I was feeling genuinely sorry for her. I felt that her situation was much more dire than mine. There was so much she was missing.

A sudden, terrifyingly sobre thought struck me. "M-Miku," I stammered, the sheer weight of the statement making me struggle. "If you were just made for music, what else is there?"

The sadness on her face warped into horror. "Nothing."


	4. Breaking Point

I gulped. The atmosphere was dead. Miku was pacing back and forth, cheeks flushed and tear-stained. I felt that there was nothing I could do. My own problems paled in comparison to the crisis she was having.

Sure, I had my issues with my mechanical arm and my recently deceased father, but Miku was experiencing the largest existential crisis I'd ever seen. It was like something out of a fictional drama. I almost laughed at how hollow my observation was, then I was disgusted at myself as I realised how terribly, honestly, brutally astute it was. But then, of course, my mouth spoke before I could think. "This is like something out of a soap opera,"

The glare that Miku gave me was one of pure vitriol. What little of me didn't quake at that look wondered how I hadn't been eviscerated on the spot by the sheer malignity. An even smaller portion of that realised how much I'd screwed up with that one sentence.

Miku stomped over, pointing at me accusingly. "Are you saying that this is entertainment?!" Her voice was shrill with anger, and I didn't blame her. What I'd said was uncalled for. "You're sick!"

"That's not what I mean!" I replied, stepping back with my hands up. "It's just that… you don't see this kind of thing every day!" I felt like I wasn't making my situation any better.

From the look on Miku's face, I most certainly wasn't. "I… You…" Lost for words, she screamed her exasperation. She turned on the spot so swiftly I was almost whipped by her ponytails. I sighed. I wasn't good at this sort of thing, I never had been.

Not wanting to have any of my limbs ripped off by an outraged android, I went in to the kitchen. It was probably best to leave her for a while. As I entered, I realised I was extraordinarily hungry - in the rush, breakfast had completely slipped my mind. Well then, I thought, I suppose I'll make myself a sandwich.

Now, where was the bread? I got thinking. I asked myself the same question from earlier - if Miku was an android designed for making music, what else was there? What life - I meant life figuratively, of course - did she have outside of melodies and notes? Indeed, she hadn't even written any songs yet. The logical conclusion was that she'd had no life whatsoever. No memories, no family, no anything.

Ah, there we go. I located the loaf of bread I'd bought a few days ago. The packaging was still intact, so the bread would be fine. If Miku had nothing, then... My train of thought came to a grinding halt. There was so little about her that I was unable to finish the statement.

Now, what to have on the sandwich? Instead of asking what for, I started to ask why. I was asking why she was made instead of what for. I ran through the reasons as I opened the fridge. I found my first option as I found my sandwich filler - some slices of beef. "Maybe she's an experiment in human-like AI and human analogues?" I suggested to myself. The idea seemed plausible right up until the point where she lacked memories. As I took out a few slices, I considered that if not for her amnesia and unnatural enthusiasm for the mundane I would have thought her perfectly normal, discounting her remarkable appearance.

I put the cold beef on one of the slices of bread and sprinkled a little salt on it. Another reason could've been that this was the start of a sentient machine uprising that would change everything. I suppressed a laugh at how ridiculously stupid the premise of that was. "This is real, this is happening," I told myself with a bitter smile. Besides, they had very little reason to revolt in the first place.

I closed up my sandwich and took a bite, eyeing the lustrous knuckles of my right hand. I just couldn't get my head around it. I shrugged, swallowing. I was sure there was something else, some other reason, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. I took another bite.

I was simply unable to work out why Miku was even here. It was a little heartbreaking, I thought, to see such a girl laid low by her missing past. I frowned and shifted in my seat uneasily. I had never really realised that I kept calling Miku a 'she', when as an android she was surely genderless. "Maybe she isn't genderless after all," I told myself. "Maybe under her clothes she's -" I halted abruptly mid sentence. "No, that would be illogical". I tried to shake the mental image from my head. I finished my sandwich, and returned to the living room, curious to know whether or not she would still be angry with me. She probably would.

Strangely enough, when I entered the room there was an absence of Miku. I glanced around, making sure that she wasn't in here. Nothing beside the front door had been moved, so she at least was still in the apartment. Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I realised that she was probably back in my bedroom.

I opened the door slightly and peeked inside. Sure enough, Miku was back in the bed, curled up and facing away from the door. "Are you asleep?" I asked just loud enough to be audible, but not so loud as to wake her if she was asleep.

Miku shifted uncomfortably, but did not look at me. "No. I can't."

"Oh." I stared at the back of her head. "Any way I can help?"

She rolled over, staring at me blankly. "No. Not like that. I literally cannot sleep. Ever."

Eye contact was like staring into an abyss. "Have you tried seeing a doctor?"

Her expression remained blank. "Idiot." She rolled back over.

I felt the confusion manifest on my face before remembering she was mechanical. I came in to the room a little more. "Oh, have you tried seeing a mechanic?"

Miku rolled over again, a look of disbelief ghosting across her features. "You are a mechanic."

I glanced away, thinking, then glanced back. I could feel the thin smile form before I could stop it. "Yes. Yes I am." The implications started to worm their way in to my head. For what seemed like the umpteenth time, I shifted uneasily. "So, do you want me to... you know..."

Miku looked slightly disturbed. "Don't even touch me." Again, she rolled away.

I wasn't offended, her reaction was perfectly reasonable. As I started to move back out, my foot brushed against something. I looked down, and it was Miku's bag. I glanced back up, making sure she wasn't watching, before picking it up as quietly as I could and exiting. I gently closed the door behind me.

Of course, I was going to put the bag back when I'd finished looking at its contents. I wasn't doing anything bad; I was just being naturally inquisitive. Eager to get this over with, I unzipped one compartment. As I had suspected, it had her other set of clothes in it. They hadn't been folded, just sort of stuffed in there. Perhaps she wasn't as neat as I first thought?

I reached for the zipper of the second compartment, but paused a hair's breadth away. This wasn't right. No matter how much I assured myself that this was fine, it wasn't helping. Should I? Shouldn't I?

I started to open it, but then stopped. "No." I told myself. I leaned back, staring at the bag. It was nothing special, just a light brown messenger bag with a darker strap made of what appeared to be synthetic leather.

That wasn't right. How did she have that bag? Where did she get it from? She had no money! It wasn't possible. I frowned and scratched my head with the wrong hand. It stung as some hair got caught in my steel fibre muscles, but I ignored it. There was all the stuff inside, too, how did she get a hold of that? My first thought was theft, but she didn't really seem to be that kind of person.

I shrugged, massaging my scalp where I had caught my hair. I looked back at her bag. I might as well put her dirty clothes in the wash, if only to excuse what I'd done. Gingerly, I took out her clothes, resting them on my arm. Ignoring the fact that I was handling somebody else's underwear, I took the clothes into the kitchen. I didn't have what one would consider a 'laundry room', so my washing machine was instead in the kitchen.

A minute or so later, the washing machine started to gently hum as it began its first cycle. Now that was complete, it dawned on me that I had nothing to do. I scratched my head, with my left hand this time. I sat back down in the living room. Well, if and when Miku stopped vegetating in my bedroom, I'd need an excuse so that -

The bedroom door swung open, and a rather sullen Miku emerged. She stopped as she was just about to pass me. Evidently, she had noticed the fact that her bag was not where she had left it. Miku looked from me to the bag, paying close attention to the fact that it was open.

"Why is my bag open?" She asked, her voice betraying nothing of her thoughts. "Moreover, why is it in here?"

"Uh, well, I, uh," I didn't know what to say. "I knew you had dirty clothes, and I knew they were in the bag, so I took the bag then I took the clothes out of the bag then -"

She interrupted me with a dismissive gesture. "Whatever. Just tell me where my clothes are."

I silently breathed out. She'd brushed over the issue with very little trouble, which was surprising to say the least. "They're in the wash."

Miku nodded. "Oh. Okay." She sat down beside me, or more accurately collapsed onto the couch. I considered her with a side glance, and upon realising she had her eyes closed I looked more intently at her.

"How're you feeling?" I asked, surprised at how worried I was for her. She was a near complete stranger, and yet she could still get this reaction out of me. Strange.

"I… I just…" She opened her eyes and nailed me with a leaden gaze. "I don't care. I honestly, truly, have just given up with caring about my past, whatever it may have been. I look only to the future now."

I felt a grim smile split my lips in half. It was incredible. She'd just moved on, just like that. I could hardly believe it.

"It's in my name, you know."

Okay, that I did not understand. "What is?"

Miku hadn't moved, hadn't even blinked, just stared at me with those sombre eyes. "Future. Miku, my forename, is derived of the nanori spelling for Future, that being Mirai. Hatsune, a combination of Hatsu and Ne, means First Sound."

I nodded. Somehow, it kind of made sense to me. Miku seemed to be far more advanced than any of the other androids I'd ever come across, that's for sure. "First Sound… Future…"

Miku nodded, looking away. She started to fiddle with the hem of her skirt, though whether it was from embarrassment or boredom or some other third thing; I couldn't tell.

"Are you sure that you're -"

"I'm fine!" Miku shouted, not even bothering to look at me. The innocent curiosity she had initially possessed seemed to have become nought but a distant memory. I noticed that I had been inching away from her, and by now there was a substantial gap between us. Sighing, I stood, uncertain of what I was going to do to fill the time.

I could almost feel Miku's eyes boring into the back of my skull like two slivers of molten iron. "Moody?" Miku asked abruptly. The concerned note in her voice had made another appearance.

I didn't turn around. "What?"

"You're bleeding." What?! Panicking a little, I looked down, before seeing the patch of blood on the right shoulder of my shirt. I practically tore the blood-marked item of clothing off. Blood, dull carmine, was seeping out of the seam where the meat of my shoulder met the metal of my arm. A small amount of whitish ichor was leaking out too. I stared at it with a kind of morbid curiosity, as did Miku.

I watched as a bead of red trickled down my side. "I feel like I've forgotten something."


	5. Decay

The hospital bed was hideously over padded. I kept squirming, fidgeting, shimmying, trying my hardest to get comfortable, to no avail. The IV drip in my left arm didn't help either. Miku was sat by my bed, twiddling her thumbs patiently. No doubt she was ruminating over her past, despite what she'd said previously.

Grumbling, I scowled at the empty chunk of metal that was my shoulder socket. The arm itself had been removed so that the doctors could better assess the area. The normally visible seam where flesh and sinew met dull alloy was covered in a bandage that had been steadily getting pinker.

I knew, of course, exactly why I'd started bleeding profusely. For all its glorious capability, my arm had a vital flaw. It was integrated into my body so effectively that my body's biological defense system reacted adversely to it. Without a daily dose immunosuppressants and antibiotics, my body would start to 'attack' the arm, but in doing so would only cause damage to itself.

This morning, I had been a little distracted and had neglected to take them. It wasn't entirely my fault. It was, at least in some small way, the fault of Miku. I didn't say that, of course. That wouldn't be the gentlemanly thing to do. I snorted. Miku seemed not to notice. I was never a gentleman in the first place.

The doctor came back, handling my detached arm as if it was some kind of high explosive. He laid it beside me as he spoke. "You know what happened?"

I nodded, eager to leave this accursed place. It stank strongly of disinfectant, which made sense but didn't exactly make the scent any more appealing. Not only that, but it reminded me of my father, which was not a matter I was ardent to deal with. "I forgot to take my immunos and my antibios."

The doctor looked pleasantly surprised, evidently used to dealing with people with a little less brain than myself. "And why would that be?"

Smiling slightly, I glanced at Miku, who wasn't paying much attention. "I got a little distracted." The doctor took one look between us and filled in the gaps incorrectly - I could see it in his eyes. "No, doctor," I chuckled despite the throbs of pain that lanced into my shoulder with every laugh. "Not like that."

The doctor shrugged, diverting attention to my prosthetic. "That's one hell of an arm."

"Hmm?" Hadn't he come across this model before? I mean, I certainly hadn't, but I didn't see too many people during the day anyway.

"I've never seen a prosthetic like this." The doctor was staring my severed appendage as he reached for the bandage. "You should count yourself lucky that you have one like this." He said, peeling back some of the bloodied bandage. I must admit, it stung quite a bit. "Looks like the bleeding has stopped. A lot of people - more than you might think - have really basic prosthetics. Some are little more than litter pickers on sticks."

I shifted uncomfortably. Surely, it couldn't be true? "Can I have it back now?"

After a moment of gawking, the doctor nodded and gave it back. Having only one arm wasn't very fun at the best of times. "Miku," I began, her eyes darting up. "Can I have a hand here?"

She smiled faintly. "The doctor just gave you one." The pun took a moment to register. I laughed despite the needles of pain that pierced my shoulder when I did so. A thoughtful look on her face, she came over to help me reattach my arm.

It took a minute or two to reattach the appendage. I felt a hot spark in my head as my entire body shivered. That was the synaptic links engaging. It was probably most uncomfortable feeling I'd ever experienced, and despite the years I still hadn't gotten used to it. A wave of numbness washed over me, followed by the urge to throw up. Both faded as the synaptic feedback reduced to nominal levels.

I flexed my arm, running what you might call manual diagnostics. It seemed to be fine, all of the joints were responsive and within acceptable parameters.

That wasn't right. I frowned. That was never how I think.

The doctor nodded at the recovery, like it was exactly as he'd expected. "It seems like everything is in order here. We're going to run a few tests and compare them to your records, so could you stay a little longer?"

Even thought I was bored already, I knew it was best to concede. He was a doctor, he knew best - or, at least, he knew better than I did. "Yeah, okay. Just don't keep me for too long."

The doctor nodded and left, leaving me and Miku alone. I looked at her. She looked at me. We looked at each other. It was awkward. I looked back at my hand.

Was it really true? Was I lucky to have such a piece of technology integrated into my body? I thought back to what the doctor had said. I flexed my fingers, remembering the comment about some of the prosthetics being little more than glorified litter pickers. If that was true, then I was surely blessed.

Or cursed, I reminded myself, looking back to the seam where sinew met steel. The arm was the whole reason I was in here. My body had naturally rejected such cybernetic interference, and having to take pills was such a hassle. Then there was the fact that I could barely even feel anything when using the arm, and even then only in the fingertips.

Well, technically, by proxy I was in here because of the accident a couple years back, but that wasn't something I wanted to deal with or think about.

Instead of thinking about the bad qualities of the arm, I started to think about the good ones. It was robust, that was for sure. It had the same amount of flexion as my flesh and blood arm, if not more. It had substantial strength, too, far more than the other. I wondered that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all; having this mechanical arm. It was as good as, if not better than my old one. I stared at my open palm as I flexed my fingers. No, it wasn't so bad after all.

I looked back at Miku. She had been eyeing me carefully as I had been thinking, and still hadn't stopped. Her gaze was almost aquiline in its observance.

Finally, she shifted in her seat slightly and began to speak. Of that, I was glad. "You forgot to take the thing stopping your body from dissolving itself, huh?" Miku chuckled, leaning over. "Good work, silly." I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, annoyed. She was being condescending and I didn't like it. Abruptly, her face turned serious and she leaned slightly closer. "What is it like?"

I frowned in incomprehension. "What's what like?"

Miku looked away, almost as if she was afraid to ask, then looked back. Her eyes met mine, a note of deadly seriousness in them. "Bleeding. How does that feel?"

What kind of a question was that? I pursed my lips, unsure of how to answer. What did it feel like? "I suppose..." I began slowly, trying to explain it. It was then that I realised there was only one way of explaining it. "When the skin is cut, it hurts and you bleed. There's nothing else to it; you can't actually feel the blood coming out."

Miku nodded, fascinated. Weird, it wasn't even that good as far as explanations go, but I suppose that at this point I was the only one she trusted. "What about..." She considered me for a second, thinking of another question. "What about being asleep? What's that like?"

I gave her an emotionless stare. "I don't know," I replied in monotone. "I'm never conscious for it."

It took a moment for Miku to understand the stupidity of her question. Embarrassed, she looked away. Despite her being an android, her face tinged crimson. "Oh. Um, that was a dumb question."

I sighed. I didn't want to make her feel bad, but she was right. "No, just..." Miku once more looked at me, eyebrow raised. I couldn't to lie to her either. "Yeah. It was a little."

"What about…" Miku began, fidgeting with a strand of hair. I briefly reflected on how difficult it must be to clean all that god damn hair. "What about eating?"

A smile crept onto my face, I could feel it. "When you eat, you shove a chunk of stuff into a cavity where it is pulped by thirty-odd blunt bone shards, then shoved down a hole by a meat tentacle, then it falls into a pool of acid. Then it moves into a fleshy tube with tiny fingers on the inside where it is absorbed into your blood and your body converts it into energy."

Miku looked confused. "What?"

I coughed, wriggling into a more comfortable position. "Sorry. Eating is, well, you put an item of food into your mouth and you chew. Using your tongue, you taste it. When it's suitably pulped, you swallow it so that it can be digested."

I saw Miku's tongue make an impression on her cheek. "I have a tongue. It might not have the same use." She cocked her head. "What else is it used for, apart from talking?"

I made a thoughtful noise. What else? "I don't know..." Ah. Got it. I stuck my tongue out at her. She looked confused. "You can use it to express derision, my friend."

"Say that beforehand, next time." Miku replied, sticking her tongue out at me.

"Be careful."

The confused expression that she wore so often had returned. "What?"

I'd forgotten that she knew very little about human interaction. It was as if naive innocence was at the core of her character, but that was slowly disappearing as she learned more harsh reality. "It could have sexual connotations too."

The look on her face was absolutely priceless. You couldn't put a pricetag on it, not ten credits, not a million. "It-it does?"

I wiggled my eyebrows up and down. "Are you inviting me for something?" Miku proceeded to stumble over her words for a good fifteen seconds, to the point where I had no idea what she was actually saying. I laughed. "Stop your yammering, it was a joke." I made a mental note of how she could be easily flustered by this, it might come in useful.

I lay my head down on the cushion. "Anyway, I doubt that you even have the capacity for that."

"I think I do, actually."

My head left the pillow. Did she just say what I thought she'd said? "No, no, no, this conversation ends here."

She gave me a sultry look. It was incredible. The tables had well and truly been turned. Where had all that innocence gone? "Why, does it make you uncomfortable?"

This conversation had just taken a rather unexpected turn unfamiliar territory. "You're 16. I'm 21. You're mechanical, I'm biological. Mostly."

The look didn't leave her face. I couldn't tell you whether or not she was actually being serious. "I think I could still facilitate you."

Now it was my turn to be at a loss for words. She couldn't be serious... could she? This was making me really uncomfortable. Whatever my facial expression was, it looked like she found it hilarious. "I'm just joking," She choked in between laughs.

I groaned. "It wasn't funny." Nevertheless, it was kind of reassuring to know that she wasn't interested in me that way. Honestly, she was just too young for me. If I had been a few years younger, then maybe... I cleared my throat, trying not to think about it. It would be for the best if I did not distract myself with such base issues.

Miku was still giggling to herself. It was awfully cutesy, and I didn't like it. I'm not a killjoy, or anything, but you know. I clasped my hands together, forgetting for a moment that one was made of metal. My flesh and blood hand initially recoiled, but I meshed my fingers together anyway. It was high time I gave up with the angst about the arm.

The clicking of footsteps on the vinyl floor made me aware of the doctor's presence before he even got here. I sat up as he approached. "Well, doc, what's the prognosis? Am I gonna drop dead any second now?" Miku frowned at me for whatever reason.

The doctor took the drip out of my arm and wiped away the spot of blood with a swab. "Your tests came back negative, all of them."

I clapped my hands, and immediately wished I hadn't. I ignored the redness that seemed to bloom in my hand. "Excellent. Does that mean I can go?"

He nodded. Good. "Just remember: Take your immunosuppressants and antibiotics every morning."

I swung my legs out, standing a little unsteadily on the cold vinyl. I sat back down again, both to avoid falling over and to put my shoes on. I heard Miku stand too; she was just as eager as I to leave this hospital.

As I put my shirt on, a thought popped into mind. "Hey, doc, if you don't mind me asking..." I began, getting my head through the neck hole. This was not a nice question. "How did my dad die? I mean, I know he was comatose and stuff, but..."

The doctor nodded. "He just died. Passed away in his sleep, no struggle. Some of the doctors suspect coronary heart failure, but I don't know. All I know is that there was no pain."

I took a deep breath. It was like some of the weight had been lifted from my chest. Where an elephant had been sat on my ribcage there was now a cow. It was still pretty damn heavy, but it was less so.

"Oh," The doctor began, clearing away the immuno IV drip. "I almost forgot. You know your prosthetic?"

Putting my arms in my jacket, I squinted at him. What was this about? "Yeah, what about it?"

"You don't need it anymore." The doctor responded.

My interest was piqued. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The doctor leaned closer. "It means," He started to elaborate, using odd gestures. "People who have lost a limb can have another one grown. What do you say? Do you want a real arm again?"

I looked down at my hands, turning them over again and again, comparing tissue to tungsten, muscle to metal. Flesh and blood was soft, tactile, warm... Fragile. The counterpart was cold, tough. It was strong, rugged. It didn't bleed. "Actually..." I began, knowing that this decision could affect my future. "I think I'll stick with the best of both worlds. Come on, Miku, let's go."

We said nothing until we were almost at the exit. Miku looked to me, and smiled. "I'm proud of you."

I gave her a look of befuddlement. "What for?"

The air was chilly, and bit like a million tiny mouths. "Letting go."


	6. Repercussion

Here we were again. The keys chinked in my hand as I unlocked the door again. Unlike last time, the room wasn't unbearably hot, but was instead pleasantly warm. I yawned, casting off my jacket in an awfully familiar way. I turned to Miku.

Her body language spoke of impatience. "What?" Her defensive tone confused me. What was wrong now?

"Nothing," I riposted, turning back away. "Just making sure you were still there."

I didn't know why I was checking; there was no reason for her to leave. For all intents and purposes, I was all she had. The heavy thought was somewhat sobering. Here was a girl who had nothing, nothing except me.

I sat down, stretching my arms out languidly. It had been a long day. Miku sat down beside me, and I turned my head to face her. "So," I began, trying to resist the urge to shut my eyes. "What are you planning on doing?"

The rain was tapping on the window like it wanted to get inside. "Hmm?"

"You can't stay here forever."

"I know," Miku grumbled like a distant thunderstorm. I waited patiently for the answer. "Well," She began, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. "I haven't really thought about it. I try to live in the moment."

"You can't do that." I replied, shaking my head.

Miku's reply was distant, like she was lost in thought. "Why not?"

Sighing, I sat up a little. She really was truly oblivious. I have to admit, it made me a little nostalgic for the halcyon days of childhood. "Bad things happen when you don't learn from the past."

She shot a cold look at me. "I have no past."

With those four words she had attacked, murdered and buried the conversation. The silence was deafening. Even the rain seemed to have become mute. Leaning back again, I tried to think of a new conversation starter, but no ideas came. By now, the silence was hurting my ears. I coughed, if only to break it. It didn't seem to work; the silence was stronger than that.

It was, in the end, her that broke the silence. "When is the funeral?"

Of all the questions to be asked, that was not one I had been expecting. "Funeral? What funeral?"

Miku stared at me blankly, looking at me like I was an idiot. Perhaps I was. "Your father's?"

Oh, well, that made sense. "Um, what's today's date?"

She considered me for a moment, though whether it was because I sounded dense or because she was trying to remember, I couldn't tell. "My internal chronometer tells me that it's the twenty-third."

I nodded, ignoring the fact that she'd said internal chronometer. I didn't want to think of her as a machine. "I think..." I began, doing exactly as I'd said. "I think on the twenty-fifth."

Miku looked surprised, shocked almost. "That's Christmas day!"

I sprung to my feet with the realisation. I swore vociferously. "It is!"

Miku stood too, placing her hands on my shoulders to keep me still. "Are you going? I mean, it's on Christmas day, and it's supposed to be a happy time, and..."

I stared her straight in the eye. It wasn't me who was stupid; it was her! "It's my father! Of course I'm going, you dolt!" Miku stepped away, quite taken aback by my outburst. I gave her a sheepish look. "Sorry. I shouldn't have shouted."

"It's okay," She countered, looking rather abashed. "I shouldn't have asked."

I shook my head. "You were well within your right." I sat back down, breathing deeply.

Miku looked at me curiously. "What's a dolt?"

"An idiot." I responded bluntly. I knew that was an insensitive way of putting it, but I really couldn't be bothered for empathy.

Miku looked at the floor for a moment, then looked back to me. "But ignorance is bliss, John." She spoke with almost astounding softness.

That startled me. It was the first time she'd actually said my first name. I looked up at her. The first time she'd called me John instead of Moody. I considered her for a moment, thinking of an adequate reply. "I'd rather be a grumpy intellectual over a blissful idiot."

Miku sat down too, looking rather pensive. "Then we're two worlds apart." She tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention, so I turned to face her. "My code and your heart."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I grunted, looking out of the window. The warm amber glow of the outside world was fading to tired navy blue.

Miku shrugged absently. "Figure of speech, I suppose."

I frowned. "Sounds like lyrics."

With a laugh, she nodded. "Yeah, I suppose it does."

"I suppose you're using the word suppose too often." I replied. Now that Miku had introduced the element of humour, I wanted to keep it alive.

"Supposedly." Miku riposted perfectly.

We laughed. That had been some brilliant rapport. It was amazing how you could have such an engaging conversation with a machine. A question struck me.

"Miku," I began, shifting slightly so that I faced her a little more. Hopefully she wouldn't be too disturbed by my question. "How much of a machine are you?"

She cocked her head quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"I mean are you biomechanical? Purely cybernetic? Are you some kind of cyborg?" It was an honest question.

Miku shrugged in short reply. "You're the mechanic. Why don't you take a look?"

I paused, trying to work out what she meant. "What?"

"You could always just open me up and-"

"First of all," I interjected, raising my hand to stop her before she got any further. "I'm not going to cut you open. That's twisted."

Miku just stared at me like she didn't know what on Earth I was talking about.

I continued regardless. "Second of all, I'm a rudimentary mechanic. I could never put something as complicated as you back together. I could repair an old car, I can maintain my arm - but given how robotic you probably are, I could never begin to understand how such a beautiful piece of tech even works."

There was a spark in her eye. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Oh. I had said that she was a beautiful piece of tech... It wasn't too much of a jump, I suppose. "Oh... W...Well, I was, um, I don't..."

She looked disappointed. "You don't?"

No, no, no, don't presume things. "No, no, I didn't... Well, I… I never-"

Miku stepped forward, impatience getting the better of her. "Do you or don't you?"

Blank. I had no answer. I was in a corner with no way out. Either I said that I did when I didn't in that way, and make things really awkward; or I said that I didn't and really offended her. Unless I chose... "Is there a third option?"

Groaning her frustration, she wheeled around. The bedroom door slammed shut behind her. I stared at the door, dumbstruck.

I made a cyclical gesture with my hand. "Everything just went wrong." I knocked on the door. "Are you okay?" No reply. What had I done? I had been well within my right to skip around the question. "Talk to me, Miku." She didn't. Rolling my eyes with dissatisfaction, I left her to whatever she was doing in there.

A rousing thought struck me in conjunction, which I was quick to try to dispel, but to no avail. The thought stuck like warm caramel, and you might say it was equally as sweet.

Attempting to ignore the venereal storm in my head, I sat down to consider the implications of her reaction. It was fairly obvious that she required my approval, but why? Why did she need to prove herself to me? I was just John Moody, the automobile mechanic who stuck to himself, the guy who was... Moody, I suppose. Sullen, sulky and short of temper. I had never been a people person, much preferring the company of myself.

I suppose I was a little abrasive. Of all people, why did she feel the need to obtain my approval? I mean, I was her elder, but only by a margin of five years or so.

"Oh, you genius," I whispered. I had just nailed it. Miku had the mind and body - though it was a rather small body - of a sixteen year old, and yet had none of the experience. She hadn't had any time to grow. Miku was all nature and no nurture. Not only that, but she was slap-bang in the middle of that dreaded grey area between childhood and adulthood.

I could only conclude that A: She was insecure and so required me to reassure her, and B: She was emotionally immature and had no idea how to mask her she felt. Miku wore her feelings on her sleeve, and though that might be considered an admirable quality it seemed only detrimental here.

Another notion popped into mind. Did she perhaps... like the way I looked? Shaking my head, I dismissed the prospect immediately. We were romantically incompatible. We were also physically incompatible - she was a head smaller than I, nevermind the fact she was mechanical.

The thought nevertheless still made me uncomfortable. I realised that I hadn't actually answered the question, just tip-toed around it. However, I don't suppose it really needed to be answered in the first place. Whether she did or didn't like how I looked really shouldn't matter to me, as I really wasn't interested in that kind of relationship with her.

Another anxiety struck me, more circumspect than the rest. What if Miku was a philosophical zombie? In a twisted way, it made sense. She didn't really feel or think, all of her reactions were just algorithms and calculations drawing from a well of preprogrammed knowledge. She was an automaton, unthinking and yet appearing to react in the natural way, if only because she knew how. It made perfect sense right up until the point that it didn't. If she knew how to properly react, she wouldn't have been so rash and naïve. When it came to people and even her own emotions, Miku was as green to social interaction as a child was to guerrilla warfare.

Standing, I returned to the bedroom door and knocked. "Come on, Miku. Talk to me. Don't be like this."

Miku's reply was a little stuffy. "Like what?!"

I paused. At first I didn't want to offend her but I realised that there was no point. It was inevitable. "Don't be such a child! You can't run away from all of your problems, Miku!"

No answer. I pressed my ear to the door, trying to work out what it was she was doing without being too intrusive.

Intrusive? Hmph. It was my bedroom. Shaking the rather juvenile notion from my head, I briefly stopped breathing to better listen.

The noise was weird. It was a little like coughing, only deeper and less sharp. It was accompanied by little moans, possibly of sadness...

Miku was crying. I swore quietly, breathing again. What was I supposed to do? I didn't know how to empathise to any great extent, nevermind empathise with an emotionally inept female machine!

I took a deep breath, and opened the door. Miku was sat on the floor, back against the wall with her legs brought up to her chest. Her face was not visible, as it was squashed in to her knees.

It took a moment for me to work out what to say. "Miku, what's wrong?"

Miku didn't answer, didn't even move, just cried. I sighed, sitting down beside her and putting my arm around her shoulders. Instinctively, she shied away, but then lay her head on me. Miku stopped sobbing, the tears becoming silent. I stroked her hair in a reassuring, almost father-like manner. Her hair was incredibly fine, every hair could be individually picked out and yet it all had a general flow.

The hell was I doing? This was weird. This was not natural. This moment was touchingly personal, but at the same it felt almost absurd.

"What's wrong?" I asked again with as much softness as I could muster.

"Everything," Miku muttered drearily.

"Even me?" I hoped to lighten the mood a little.

She smiled bitterly. "No, you're not wrong." Miku didn't make eye contact, just staring vacantly into space. "You're not right, either."

"Touché." I conceded. "How do you feel?"

"Confused." Miku replied, the word almost a sigh. "Bored. Cold. Lonely." She did feel a little cold, actually. I briefly wondered if a machine could get hypothermic before pulling her a bit closer. "What are you doing?"

I frowned at her, though she wasn't looking at me. "You said you were cold." I wasn't trying to do anything other than keep her warm.

Miku squirmed a little, almost like she was trying to get comfortable. She was still crying, though not as much. "Oh, I can't blame you."

That didn't make sense. "Eh?" There was a lull in the conversation. She was thinking. I didn't like that.

Wiping away the tears, Miku looked at me, a questioning look on her face. "John," she began, surprising me again with the usage of my real name. "Just a quick theoretical question,"

"Hypothetical," I corrected her, more out of habit than any sort of animosity.

"Yeah, um, that. Hypothetically, if I asked you, would you go on a date with me?"

Shocking. Absolutely shocking. Luckily, I already had an answer "I'd say yes out of politeness, but I wouldn't be interested in having an actual romantic relationship." Miku didn't look offended, which was a good sign, but that questioning stare didn't fade entirely. "You're more cute than hot. Not my style."

Miku nodded, staring away into space again. "Fair enough. I wasn't interested in you that way either, I just wanted to know."

"Really?"

Miku shot me a glare. "Really."

I shrugged. "Okay." Despite what you might believe, that was actually good to know. I didn't need her lusting after me, it wouldn't be right. Miku was no girlfriend, that was for sure, but she was certainly a friend. Hell, at a stretch I suppose she was a little like a sister.

Well, now we were sitting here, all curled up. What next?

"We're going to find out." I stated plainly.

The ever-present confused expression arrived again. "Find what out?"

I pulled her towards me again, almost like I was hugging her. "We're going to find out who you are, okay? I am not giving up on you." It wasn't like I had anything better to do with my time. I put my hand on the side of her head, leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead.

I could've sworn there was a clicking noise. "Miku, what was that?"No answer. I shook her gently. "Miku?" Again, no reply. Had she fallen asleep?

My eyes widened as I remembered that she couldn't. I shook her again. Her head lolled like she was a marionette with her strings cut. I scrambled into action, grabbing her head and turning it so I could see her face.

Vacant expression. Half-lidded eyes that didn't see. There was no sign of consciousness. I bemusedly stared at her, my stomach churning with a mixture of dread, horror and confusion.

"The hell did I just do?!"


	7. Heart

Panicky? Of course I was panicky! I had kissed Miku - kissed her platonically, that is - on the forehead and she had stopped functioning! What was I supposed to do? I had lain her down on the bed whilst I tried to work out why she was comatose and what I could do to fix it.

Maybe there wasn’t anything I could do. Maybe that was it, game over. Maybe she was dead.

I shook my head, dismissing the pessimistic thought on a whim. Miku couldn’t be dead. She wasn’t dead. It wasn’t possible. Maybe… Maybe she was off.

Of course! It made perfect sense. I had turned her off. That’s all I had done. “Surely if I can turn her off,” I hissed to myself, pacing back and forth errantly. “I can turn her back on!”

The real question was ‘how’. Exactly how had I turned her off in the first place? Surely the cue for her shutdown wasn’t a kiss to the forehead. No, that would be completely illogical.

Now, what had happened when she had turned off, apart from me kissing her? Well, first of all, she had been crying. Maybe it had something to do with that?

“No, that too would be illogical.” If crying made her shut down, then… I couldn't finish that train of thought for how irrational such a function was. I thought maybe it was to do with her position - all curled up like that - but that too was quite preposterous.

Despite the uncertainties, I did know one thing. When Miku had turned off, there had been a noticeable click, like a somebody snapping their fingers. Perhaps such a noise would turn her back on again? Although the idea of a noise such as this toggling her activation was still fairly absurd, it was much less so than the rest.

Hoping that it would work, I lifted my left hand and clicked my fingers.

Nothing. She didn’t move, didn’t reactivate, just remained motionless.

Okay, so her shutdown toggle wasn’t to do with noise. “Perhaps it was the item that clicked that shut her off?” This was a little more reasonable. If I could just work out what had clicked…

Well, the first step to working out the offending item would be to think about what makes clicking noises. Pressure releases, tendons snapping over joints, switches…

Of course. A switch. I felt the horror manifest itself on my face as I realised that Miku had an off switch. A sentient being could be rendered unconscious with the literal flip of a switch.

Now I had to work out where the aforementioned switch was. It took me a moment to remember that I had my hand on the side of her head; the left side. Perhaps the switch was located there? I hurried over, brushing away Miku's hair. I couldn't see a switch.

I leaned in, taking a closer look. It had to be there. There was no way that it couldn't. It took a moment for me to locate the switch. It was the rather small, hidden behind her ear lobe. It was even labelled. Gently, I pushed it from 'off' to 'on'.

Miku sat up so fast that I had no time to react. Her forehead slammed into my face. It was like being headbutted by a train. I fell backwards, hands over my head.

"You turned me off!" Miku cried.

"Aeeeuuuuugh." I replied, rocking back and forth. The world was spinning way too fast.

I barely even felt Miku shake me, for it was lost in the dull throb. "You turned me off! What the hell?!"

"Your head..." I babbled drunkenly. "Is really hard... and my face hurts."

Miku shook me again, unaware of the vomit-inducing vertigo each movement gave me. "How the hell did you turn me off?!"

I looked up, wincing as my head throbbed. "I feel like we're -" I paused to stop myself from throwing up. "We're having two different conversations here." Trying my best to not fall over, I staggered to my feet, swaying unsteadily. “Now, if you could… avoid headbutting me… that would be great.”

Miku gave me a strong push, sending me stumbling backwards. I collided with the wall, too dazed to feel pain. “HOW DID YOU TURN ME OFF?!” Miku screamed at the top of her voice, knocking the stupefaction out of me.

I looked at her. Well, she wanted to know. It wasn’t my fault if she panicked. “You have an off switch under your left ear.”

Miku’s hand slowly rose to the area I’d pointed out. The dread on her face was palpable. With one finger, she gently touched the switch. “I have an off switch.”

Something about the way that she said that was rather distressing. I nodded slowly. “That’s what I said.” 

She cast me a dejected look. “I have an off switch.” A crystal tear rolled down her cheek. “Why do I have an off switch?”

“You’re a machine.” I replied cautiously. I didn’t want her to start crying again. “Machines have off switches.”

The dejected stare grew only stronger. “I’m not just a machine. I’m more than a simple chunk of nuts and bolts…” Her voice was growing in power, turning from crestfallen to enraged. “I’m human! I’m human! I think, I feel, I learn!” The tears really were spilling down her face now. Miku’s fists were clenched, shaking and shivering. She broke down into sobbing again, sitting on the bed. "I'm human, I'm human..." She repeated to herself over and over, slightly quieter each time, flitting between English and (presumably) Japanese seemingly at random.

I carefully shuffled over, reaching forward to put my hand on her shoulder. It kind of hurt to see her like this.

Miku slapped my hand away before I could touch her. How had she even known? Her eyes were practically shut. "Go away."

No. I was going to stand my ground. "No, Miku. I'm not going away. You need someone." Not necessarily me, but someone. She couldn't cry forever, she had to face the truth. 

I stepped closer, and Miku snapped. She open-palm shoved me in the chest, sending me flying backwards. My back crunched into the wall, and I collapsed on the ground.

The pain flared through my spine. It didn't feel like I'd broken anything, but it still bloody hurt. I staggered up, leaning against the wall and breathing deeply.

Miku rushed over. "Oh, sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry, I, I didn't mean to..." The rest of whatever her excuse was faded into a background throb of blood in my ears. The red-hot pain sparked and burned brighter, smouldering into anger. She had just shoved me into a wall when I had tried to help her. The pain was fading away into a deadly tingle. I felt my breathing become involuntarily sharp and raspy.

I slowly looked up at her, a glint of rage in my eyes. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Miku stepped back, hands over her mouth. It seemed as if she was so shocked that she had stopped crying. Miku stumbled backwards, her wide-eyed gaze unrelenting. For a moment, the sadness in her eyes was replaced by fear.

That was it. The last straw. I was done, I was going. If I had to take any more of this, I was going to seriously snap. I was going to hurt her, and I seriously didn't want to do that. I left immediately without looking back. I scooped up my jacket from the couch.

"Wh-where are you going?" I heard Miku ask in a quaky voice.

I ignored her, and left my apartment.

 

* * *

 

Despite the chill of the December wind, my core was molten with anger. The streets were bustling with late Christmas shoppers, but everybody seemed to move aside as I passed. Good. I didn't need anyone getting in my way. 

I couldn't remember how long I had been walking. It didn't matter.

Why had Miku reacted so rashly? I knew I had flipped, but I was only reacting to how she'd hit me! I mean, how dare she react like that! Well, I suppose what she'd done was kind of justified.

What? No. It wasn't. In what universe was physical violence justified? No, wrong question. In what universe was shoving me into the wall at mach 3 appropriate? My back hurt, my rib was throbbing and my wall was dented. You couldn't justify that.

Miku was emotionally immature. I knew that. It wasn't an excuse. She could have killed me!

She didn't know how to properly react.

"Well, she bloody well needs to learn." I grunted under my breath. The hot air from my lungs spilled out as a white cloud.

I glanced up at the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the stars, but I was met only with a grey blanket. It had been snowing earlier, but nothing was left except a film of dampness and the occasional puddle of slush.

I looked back down. The Christmas crowds were thinning like my father's hair.

I gulped, feeling the anger inside me smoulder into something less potent. I missed him, missed him dearly. Forcing down the tears, I kept walking.

Miku hadn't meant to hurt me. If she had, I would already be dead, right? Besides, she immediately apologised for her outburst. It didn't change the fact that my body was numb all over, but it was a little sentiment.

"Not enough sentiment." I added, watching my words mist in front of me. "Hm. I guess she'll try and apologize again when I get back." She'd better. What Miku had done was uncalled for.

I sighed, leaning against a lamp post. I was cold, I was wet, I was hungry. Oh, man, I was hungry. It was high time I headed back home. We needed to sort this out. I couldn't have her throwing me around like a ragdoll, I was no plaything.

Shuddering at the thought of being a female machine's plaything, I started on my way home. Much of the hustle and bustle had dissolved into dribs and drabs.

I caught a flash of teal in the corner of my vision, suddenly halting in my tracks. I took a step back, and looked to my left.

There was a poster on the wall. Normally, I wouldn’t have paid attention to such advertisements, but something about this intrigued me. It was the background colour, the same shade as Miku’s hair. I stepped closer, elbowing through the stream of people. Surely it was no coincidence that it was the same hue? The title on the poster was in pure white, proudly displaying “Vocal REvolution”.

There were the silhouettes of six people on there, each with a distinctly different outline. Upon closer inspection, one of the silhouettes was identical to that of Miku. There was no doubt in my head any more, this was no mere coincidence. Something was up here.

The text on the poster was in both English and Japanese. I leaned closer, reading the small text. “Life-like ‘Vocaloid’ voice synthesis hardware. Coming next year.” Weird. What was vocaloid? Obviously, it had the whole ‘vocal’ thing going for it, so it was obviously to do with voices, but how so?

Well, presumably because it had Miku’s silhouette on it, it had something to do with her. Now, Miku was an android, an android who wanted nothing more than to sing…

I felt a chill run down my spine. Vocal. Android. It made perfect sense. Miku was one of these ‘Vocaloids’, and she wasn’t the only one. There were five more.

I turned away, eager to inform Miku of this new revelation, but I stopped before I could start walking. Suspicious, I glared back at the text. “Voice synthesis hardware.” My eyes widened with shock. This poster was referring to her as nothing more than a piece of hardware, a mere tool to be used.

No, no, it was like Miku said. She was more than a machine. She felt, she thought. Miku was practically human - She definitely had a sense of humanity.

Gulping, I hurried away. Something was deeply, horribly amiss here. I needed to tell her.


	8. Harmonize

I paused with my hand inches from the handle. I hoped there wasn't going to be a repeat of last time, there was only so much being knocked about I could take. Another blow like that might cause me serious damage, nevermind the wall.

Slowly, I opened the door. I couldn't hear her crying, so that was a good sign. After a brief pause, I went inside. Miku was sitting in the couch, staring at her hands. She looked less distraught, more introspective. I nevertheless saw a tear fall on to her open palm. Miku didn't bother to look at me, though whether it was because she didn't notice me or didn't care was unknown to me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I didn't know how to explain.

Instead, I reached over and roughly grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. "What? What is it?" Miku murmured lethargically.

I hauled Miku through the still-open door, closing it behind us. Keeping a tight grip on her hand, I lead her downstairs. "Damn it, John," Miku whined. "I said I was sorry!" I didn't care. I'd let her draw her own conclusions for a while. She'd been stewing away for a while now, what difference would a little more stewing make?

Miku wasn't struggling. She was being a bit of a dead weight, but was letting herself be lead out. We walked briskly and in silence. The streets were empty, giving the impression that the world was sleeping and yet here we were. The only noise was soft splashing as I haphazardly stomped through the occasional puddle, Miku submissively being dragged along. At least she wasn't struggling, I mused.

I stopped dead at the poster. "Here. Look." I nodded to it, not yet letting go of her hand.

Miku squirmed uncomfortably. "You're hurting me."

I shot a glare at her. "I thought you didn't feel pain." It was only when I let go that I realised I had been holding her with my augment. I didn't apologize.

Clutching her hand, Miku stepped close. "That's my name."

"Hmm?" I leaned closer, trying to work out where it said her name. I hadn't seen 'Hatsune Miku' on it anywhere.

Miku pointed at a line of jumbled symbols. "There. That's my name in Kanji format." Oh. That would be why I couldn't see it - Unlike Miku I was not bilingual.

"Well, I don't speak gibberish, do I?"

A brief look of hurt flashed across her face, though whether it was from the remark or the tone I couldn't tell. "There are more... More like me? Kaito, Meiko, Luka... Hey, Kagamine Rin, Kagamine Len..." Miku cocked her head, giving me a curious yet wary glance. "Twins, perhaps?"

I shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I'm not the one on the poster." I roughly shoved her out of the way. "Crypton Future Media, in association with Yamaha." I frowned. "Eh?" Sure enough, the Yamaha logo was there. "I have a bike made by them."

"A bike?"

I nodded. Had she forgotten I was an automobile mechanic? "A motorbike, pre millennium. I bought it and fixed it up. It was made by Yamaha."

Miku scratched her head. It seemed a perfectly normal gesture until I remembered she was an android - a 'vocaloid'. Weird. "That's odd."

Couldn't argue with that. "Exactly." I replied coolly.

Miku folded her arms again, much tighter this time, as a gust of wind blew through the street. I noticed she was shivering. No, surely she wasn't... "I'm really cold."

Grumbling, I wrenched off my jacket and practically threw it at her. Miraculously, she caught it. "Put it on."

Obligingly, Miku did as she was told. "Thanks... What about you?"

"I'll be fine, put the damn thing on."

"You don't have to be mean about it." Miku sounded rather subdued. 

Now she was just being obtuse. "Shut up and put the damn thing on." 

Great, now I was cold. Miku was still shivering. "Doesn't really help my legs though."

"You only ever think about yourself, don't you?" I retorted bitterly. "Nobody else matters. 'Oh, woe be me, whatever is my past? Oh, oh no, oh I'm so cold, sorry for trying to break your spine.' Just shut up. Shut up for five minutes." I unhurriedly turned to face her. "Now, look here, girl. I've taken you in. I've given you my bed. I've tried to help you. I've had to put up with your God damn incessant crying. It's time you told me the truth."

"B-but, I," Miku stammered, unsettled by my outburst. "What truth?"

"The truth about your past."

She was being dense. It was very annoying. "I-I don't remember my past,"

I heard the pistons in my right hand hiss as I clenched it. "Then start remembering."

"But, but I can't -"

"Then start trying!" I shouted at her.

Miku didn't reply. She merely whimpered.

"Are you sure that you're a 'vocaloid'? You've not sung once!" I roared, pointing accusingly. My voice took a lower, darker tone. "All you do is whimper, cry and punch people. Are you sure you weren't designed as a child soldier robot?" I didn't have to deal with this. It wasn't my job to make people stop crying, it was my job to fix machines. "You're nothing but a child. An ungrateful, immature child."

Miku started crying again. "Oh, for the love of God..." This was exactly what I meant. Her arguing back would have been preferable to this. The crying, though, was at this point unbearable. I felt like my ears were about to leap off of my head in protest. I was sick, literally and figuratively sick of her crying. I would do anything, almost anything, to make her stop bawling like an infant.

Trying my best to ignore her, I squinted to better read the small text. Each model was different - Four feminine, two masculine. Apparently, these were just six of sixty three vocaloids, each with different release dates. There seemed to be a gender bias, with only fifteen of them being male in total. “Great,” I mumbled, casting an annoyed side glance at Miku. “Sixty two more of them. Just what I need.” Sixty three more amnesiac vocaloid things that were socially inept, emotionally immature and generally messed up.

I really wished that she would stop crying. Now was not the time nor the place. It was then I realised that, actually, Miku had stopped crying. I glared over at her. She was sniffling, back against the wall, staring dejectedly at the floor.

I didn’t like watching people cry, nor did I like watching people in the aftermath. It made me feel bored, like the apathy was just leaking off of them.

Not wanting to get too jaded with her, I looked back at the poster. There seemed to be nothing more I could infer. Miku sniffed apathetically.

I looked left, down the empty street, then back at Miku. It would be so easy to just go, to leave and let Miku work this out. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, her face was a carefully measured mask of weary detachment - or it would be if not for the silent tears.

Had I gone too far? Miku, like all people, probably had a pressure limit. I had definitely gone past that limit, and look where we were now. I'd said some things I probably shouldn't have, but I was justified... right? 

Was I justified? Was I right to react with such hostility?

I looked away again, at the empty street. Oh, it would be so much easier to just leave. Hell, it would have been so much easier if I hadn't met her in the first place. I wouldn't have to deal with her crying, or her mystery that seemed to take precedence over all else. Sometimes, avoiding the problem was the easiest answer.

Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I glanced at Miku again. Nevermind it being easy, was avoiding the problem the right answer? I had already caused some potentially irreversible damage to our unlikely relationship. If I left, that was it. Game over. I couldn't let that happen. I felt responsible for her, and to just leave her like that was unthinkable.

Was I justified to react with such hostility? No. I wasn't.

Casting one last forlorn glance at the deserted street, I took a step toward Miku. Miku flinched almost imperceptibly. I spread my arms. "Come here."

Miku got the gist. She ran over, crashing into me, almost knocking me off balance. She buried her face in my chest as I wrapped my arms around her. The desperate sobbing returned. "I'm sorry," I said softly, letting her cry. The crying was no longer a nuisance, it was a warning - a warning that something wasn't right. "I said some things I really shouldn't have." Miku's tears were soaking through my shirt, uncomfortably warm. "Don't worry. We're going to get to the bottom of this. I won't stop."

Miku looked up, her tear-flushed face hopeful. "You p-promise?"

I shook my head. "No, I can do more than that. I swear. On my life." Miku started crying again, but I could've sworn that some of those tears were of joy. "Come on, little lady. Let's go home."


	9. Amenability

I yawned, sitting up and stretching my arm. I had camped out on the couch again. Miku needed her space, and as much as I loathed not being able to sleep in my own bed I could not bring myself to force her to sleep on the couch in my stead.

Sweeping the quilt aside, I staggered to my feet. A new day, a fresh day. Indeed, it was Christmas Eve.

After putting on some clothes I had left out last night, I shuffled over to the bedroom, wiping the sleep from my eyes. Looking after Miku was going to be very stressful, I could tell even through the haze of tiredness.

Opening the door, I saw that Miku was still asleep - or, rather, still shut down. She'd told me to reactivate her in the morning. Obligingly, I flicked her on. She shuddered, then rose. "Morning!" Miku said to me cheerfully.

I grunted in reply, leaving the room again. Her ecstatic mood felt abrasive. It was too early for fun. Either that or I was too tired.

"Meds!" Miku cried jovially from the other room. What was that suppose to mean? I scratched my head in dull confusion.

Oh. I had to take my immunos and antibios. I went in to the kitchen. Man alive, I was thirsty as hell. Yawning, I reached up to the shelf to grab a cup, and I was fairly shocked when my arm didn't appear. I looked at it. It wasn't there.

I flexed my shoulder, seeing the grey stub twitch. I hadn't put my arm on yet.

Grumbling, I returned to the living room to search for the absent appendage. "Miku?" I asked wearily. "Where's my arm?"

"Attached to your torso." Miku replied, an element of mischievousness in her voice.

Oh no she didn't. "The other arm."

"I don't know." Miku's mood had certainly improved since last night. "It's not in here." I heard the rustling of fabrics.

"What are you doing?" I couldn't see my arm anywhere.

Miku opened the bedroom door, bouncing out. "I was getting dressed." Miku's gaze was drawn groundward for some reason. "Your arm is on the table, you... dolt."

Oh. So it was. I had looked everywhere except right in front of me. I picked it up. In its deactivated form the arm was inflexible, so it was very easy to attach. Autonomous systems in the socket at my shoulder detected the arm's presence, and prepared to connect. I felt a fizzing feeling in the back of my head.

"Let me help you!" Miku chimed, bounding over with vivacity. She grabbed my arm, trying to get the angle right. "Keep still."

"Hypocrite." I murmured, doing as I was told. It took a moment for Miku to get the right angle of entry and then it was a simple case of putting it in.

Dutifully, Miku gave the arm a slight push and it slotted in to the socket. I shivered as a bolt of electricity arced through my nerves. Damn feedback. Ignoring the fresh wave of queasiness, I nodded at Miku. "Thanks."

Miku nodded back. I stretched out my arm, making sure each joint was properly aligned. There were no discrepancies; each joint, tendon, muscle and piston was operating well within acceptable parameters.

I frowned. It had happened again. It was like putting on the arm changed the way I think for a moment.

Miku nudged me, disrupting the train of thought. "Meds. Now."

"Right, right." I want back into the kitchen, Miku following me for whatever reason. As I went into one of the cupboards to get my meds, Miku got me a glass of water without me even asking. I swear, it's a little like she was a mind reader. She handed me the water as soon as I turned around with two little capsules in my hand. I gratefully accepted it. Maybe looking after her wouldn't be so bad after all.

I swallowed the pills and down the water. I was finally waking up. 

Miku smiled at me. There was no trace of the quarrel we had last night. "Are we going to start today?"

That was a very open question. "With what?" 

"Finding out everything."

I grunted. "My dad's funeral is tomorrow. Can it wait?"

"Yeah, your dad's funeral can wait." I glared at her. That had been in terrible taste. Her expression changed from cheery to abashed. "Sorry."

I chose to otherwise ignore the joke. "We'll start after tomorrow. Okay?"

Miku nodded energetically. "Okay!"

I shook my head in disbelief. She had completely brushed over the funeral, like it wasn't important and we shouldn't be talking about it. Miku had completely averted my train of thought.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe she was trying to stop me from dwelling on it. If so, it was working. Perhaps Miku was just trying to keep me happy.

An errant thought struck me. "Miku..." I began, giving her a serious look.

"Yeah?"

"You can't go to a funeral dressed like that."

Miku made a pouty face. "Well, why not?"

I sighed. Truly, Miku knew nothing. "You're supposed to wear all black, for starters."

Miku grumbled something, looking down at her clothes. "My skirt and boots are black."

Excuses, excuses. "The rest of you isn't."

Miku made a very exasperated noise. "But my clothes are comfy!" She complained, jiggling up and down.

I said nothing until she stopped bouncing. She was acting unusually like a small child. "I'm going to buy you some businesslike clothes, okay?"

Miku started bouncing up and down again. It was annoying. "Really?"

I gave her a serious look. "I'm not having you come to my father's funeral dressed like a fictional character."

Miku sighed. "Okay."

I shook my head, leaving for the living room. "You should be happy that I'm offering to get you new clothes free of charge."

"I am happy!" Miku chimed. She stopped me dead in my tracks by hugging me from behind. "Thank you."

Did she really have to do that? "Enough with the surprise hugs." I didn't need our relationship going any way other than platonic.

Miku grunted, but wisely let me go. It was not a noise I had expected to hear from her. "You hugged me twice before."

I looked over my shoulder at her. No matter how many times she showed it, Miku's ineptitude when it came to people was astounding. "You were crying. I hugged you to make you stop crying."

Miku whined, but the noise sounded like she had conceded. The point was reinforced by the fact that she didn't reply further.

"Put your shoes, uh, boots on." I said, trying to find my own. Miku left me for the moment. I sighed with relief, temporarily free of her infectiously juvenile presence. Part of me wanted to be childish right back at her.

By the time I’d finally located my shoes and successfully put them on (which took me a good few more seconds than I’d care to admit), Miku was standing impatiently in front of me, arms crossed.

I stood, digging my palms into the base of my back, ignoring the cold surface of my metallic hand. There was a slight click as I realigned my spine, accompanied by a flush of relief. I didn’t know where I had picked up that trick, but I was glad I had. “You ready to go?”

Miku was tapping her foot. “I was ready before you were.”

Ignoring her remark, I removed my jacket from its hangar. After a quick check to make sure everything was there, I made my way to the door. It took me a moment to realise that Miku wasn’t following.

Naturally perturbed by this, I turned to face her. She was staring off into the middle distance, blankly ruminating over something or other. “Miku?”

Almost surprised, Miku glanced at me. “Huh?”

I nodded toward the door. “Come on. We’re going.”

With a sigh, Miku reluctantly followed.

 

* * *

 

As soon as we were outside, Miku had started whining about being cold. Of course, that was five minutes ago. I had taken the liberty of buying her a jacket to keep her warm, if only to stop her complaining. Miku had chosen a black overcoat that went down to knee-height, for reasons she didn’t elaborate on.

I must admit, Miku looked rather fetching in nothing but the colour black. It contrasted nicely to her blue hair and eyes and her pale skin - there was a nice yin-yang thing going on.

We were strolling along the high street at a leisurely pace, as I was allowing Miku to take in the sights. She certainly seemed enthralled by the prospect of the city, and didn’t really notice the people who kept turning to look at her masses of hair.

I paused mid-stride to check that she was still following me. Miku was a few paces behind me, glancing left and right. 

Abruptly, Miku stopped, staring at one of the stores. "Miku?" She didn't reply, almost as if she was awestruck by whatever it was she was looking at. With a sigh, I turned to join her.

Miku had been enchanted by a broad-range music store - the kind that not only sells physical copies of songs and albums but also instruments. Almost like she'd twitched, Miku looked at me. "Can we go in?"

I looked from her to the store, and back again. I felt my chest deflate as I let out my breath, seeing it form thin mist in front of me. "Alright, but no more detours after that, okay?"

Miku nodded eagerly, brimming with excitability. "Yeah, yeah, let's go already!" She rushed ahead, the door opening automatically to let her through. Well, at least she hadn't been lying when she said music was her 'thing'. Reluctantly, I followed the energetic blue blur in to the store.

It was warm inside, a Godsend for such a chilly winter. The store was split down the middle by a long shelf, on which light chips, compact discs and even vinyl records were placed. There were hundreds of them, and they were even placed in alphabetical order. On display at the walls were instruments, ranging from simple flutes and drums to keytars and even a theremin. I exchanged a nod with the proprietor as I passed the checkout, which was on the right hand side as I entered.

Miku was walking much slower now, her gargantuan pigtails swaying back and forth as she looked here and there. She was completely enraptured by her surroundings.

The store had a certain forlornness to it. It may have been because of the presence of non-electronic instruments, or because of the presence of vinyl and compact discs, but the store felt like it had been forgotten. The room was a mishmash time capsule of relatively new and extremely old. These vinyl records were two, three times older than I was, maybe more. One particular acoustic guitar looked to be two centuries old, and the price tag seemed to agree with my observation. The instrument was worth more credits than I was paid in five years.

That was when I noticed that a song was playing gently in the background. I paused, listening carefully. It was what I believe you would call symphonic rock, and it was lyricless. It was not a melody I was familiar with, however. It painted the subdued atmosphere of the shop into a deep red.

Shaking my head, I continued walking. Miku had taken an album from the shelf. I saw her smile slightly. "What is love?"

I stopped abruptly, taken aback by the question. "Eh?"

Miku glanced at me, as if confused by my stupidity. "What is love?"

There was a painful moment of silence. "Uh, love is... uh..."

With a giggle, Miku shook her head and placed the album back where she'd found it. "No, silly. It was the name of a pre-millennium song."

I chuckled, scratching the back of my head. "I didn't know." I looked at the albums again. Truly, there were hundreds of them, in every genre I could think of. There were hundreds of artists, too, many names I was unfamiliar with, and some that I knew. The Beatles, Slipknot, Supercell, Muse, Deadmau5, Scissor Sisters...

By now, Miku had moved on. She was over at the back wall of the shop, facing away from me. It looked like she was holding something. Curious, I walked over. "What have you got, there?"

Miku glanced at me before returning to the object she was cradling. Held in her hands was a small, cobalt blue egg-shaped instrument with several holes in it. There was a small protrusion on the side. "It's an ocarina."

I frowned, leaning closer. That was an odd name, but it was also oddly familiar. "How do you know that?"

Miku nailed me with an almost aquiline stare. "I know about almost every instrument known to man. Didgeridoo, Sitars, Cowbell, Triangle, Maraca, Bongo, Harpsichord..." She trailed off into thought, before speaking properly again. "I know how to play them, too."

That was a lot of instruments. Surely one person couldn't know that much? "Really?"

Miku's gaze entered the realms of aquiline once more. "What use have I for lying?" It was true. She didn't have anything to gain by lying to me - which meant she was telling the truth. Her stare returned to the ocarina, which she was cradling like a child. "Can I have it?"

"Depends on the cost."

"25 Credits." Miku responded without looking at the price tag.

I shook my head. Way too expensive. "I'm not paying that much for a chunk of painted synthwood."

"No, Moody," Miku whispered, drawing the musical egg a little closer to her heart. "It's real wood."

My eyes widened. "How can you tell?"

"Synthwood is a polymer. Wood isn't. They have slightly different textures."

Apparently she knew what polymers were. "How do you know?" Miku shrugged indifferently, exactly the response I'd been anticipating. I sighed, letting my frustration show. "Okay. I'll buy you the ocarina."

Suddenly, Miku hugged me tightly. "Thank you."

I grunted. Miku was uncomfortably warm. "I told you to stop doing that."

"Shut up and take my hugs, Moody."


	10. Reminisce

Chapter 10: Reminisce

Miku was sitting patiently by my side as I finished my dinner. It was a little off putting - I had almost made extra for her before she'd carefully reminded me that she didn't - that she couldn't - eat food. I finished my last mouthful and downed it with a swig of water.

Okay, okay, she wasn't sitting idle. She was playing a soft, freeform melody on the ocarina. It was like she had played the instrument all her life. Miku's eyes were closed as she used the ocarina to express herself, her fingers moving across the surface of the cobalt egg seemingly of their own accord.

The ocarina itself made a harmonious yet hollow, almost melancholic noise when used; and Miku was directing this into a song. The song was slow and peaceful, with an element of melancholy given to it by the nature of the instrument. However, every now and then, a little ray of hope shone through in the form of a slightly higher pitch or slightly quicker progression of the notes.

Miku opened one of her eyes, smiling at me slightly as she reached the crescendo of her little solo performance. After one last drawn-out note faded into breathlessness, Miku gently pulled away the azure instrument. "Well? How did I do?"

I took a moment to consider my answer. “I liked it. You play well, Miku.”

Miku nodded in appreciation. She was clearly proud of what she’d done. “Anything else you’d like to add?” Frowning, I shifted in my seat. What on Earth was that supposed to mean? Unusually, Miku picked up on my confusion. It was not often that she was that perceptive. “Like, what feelings did I get across?”

How to put it into words? I pondered it for a few seconds before decided on my answer. “The song was very pensive; it had a definite downcast element to it. Now and then, though, you added a different note to the usual shade of grey, almost like a little bit of hope amidst the desperate sadness.”

Miku smiled at me, holding her ocarina close to her heart. “That’s what I was aiming for. It’s nice to know I can get these emotions across.”

Wait, what? Was the song meant to connote with how she was feeling inside? If so… damn, she was really torn up internally. “What does that mean?”

She looked away. “N-Nothing.”

Shrugging, I stood, moving my empty plate to the sink. I hear Miku rise too. After I placed the plate in the sink, I paused briefly before wheeling around to face her again. There was a sort of vagueness about Miku’s blank expression, like she wasn’t really there. “Miku?”

Her gaze was briefly brought up from the floor. “Huh?”

I pointed at the ocarina. “That instrument requires you to breathe into it. Do you breathe?”

Miku cocked her head, thinking about her answer. “Not really. I don’t have ambient breathing like a person would. What I actually do is I expand my chest cavity, then shrink it again.” Oh. That made sense, actually. It was pretty much the same way humans did it. Miku looked up at me, a pained look on her face. “It hurts, though. It hurts a lot. It’s worth it in the end, though. Playing that song hurt me a lot, but I feel better for playing it.”

Really? She had played through the pain just for me? Remarkable. To consider that Miku had risked her health to simply play me a song was incredible. It was a little flattering, actually. Hell, it was more than a little. Stepping forward, I surprised her by embracing her.

Looking up at me curiously, Miku considered the meaning of my action. "Is something wrong?"

I shook my head, holding her tightly. It was pride that I felt. I was proud of her. "No. Everything is fine."

Miku didn't move. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." I didn't really know what was making me hug her - I simply couldn't put a name to it. It was a mixture of pride, respect, joy and affection. I planted a kiss on her forehead and let her go, stepping back slightly.

Miku still didn't move, just staring at me. Abruptly, she shrugged and turned to leave. "That was weird." However, she stopped just shy of the door. "John, there's been something I've been meaning to ask you."

That didn't sound good. Whenever she said my actual name, the subject was always serious. It reminded me somewhat of my mother - truly, the name Johnathan Moody was the bane of my childhood, especially when screamed. "Ask away."

"Your father..." Miku began, hesitating slightly. That really didn't sound good. My eyes narrowed as I considered the possible routes this conversation could take. I could tell from her hesitation that she knew this was a tetchy subject. "What was he like?"

It was a perfectly legitimate question. That didn't stop it from silencing me for a good few moments. I gestured towards the door, towards the living room. "Let's sit." Still cradling her ocarina, Miku sat down with me on the couch, waiting patiently for an answer. Her sapphire eyes observed me carefully as I folded my arms and considered my answer. "What was my dad like?"

Miku shifted slightly, crossing her legs. "You don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable."

I shook my head. "No, no, it's fine. My dad was..." I paused, imagining him, seeing him with my mind's eye. "Christ, it's only been two years, but it feels like it's been so long since I talked to him." 

Miku moved a little closer, putting a hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, John. You don't have to answer."

"No, I -" I started sharply before halting myself. I took a deep breath, steadying myself. When I spoke again, I used a much softer tone. "I need to answer, I just don't know how." 

Miku sighed. "Let me help you. You know, everybody needs to move on some time. Your father didn't die four days ago - he died two years ago, when he first entered that coma. I mean this figuratively, but... You know. You just need to let it go." That was a surprisingly apt statement. I suppose she was right, really. My father hadn't really been alive; he'd been stuck in the middle, trapped on the border between life and death. If anything, death was a mercy.

I paused, staring silently into space. "It's my fault in the first place."

"What is?"

Sighing, I lay my head in my hands. It was true, it was all my fault. "It's my fault he's dead."

Miku made a bemused noise. "How so?"

I leaned back again, resting my hands on my legs as I slumped down. Great, now I was remembering the crash. It was a painful memory. "I was talking to my dad in the car. He was looking at me instead of the road. Somebody pulled out in front of us. You can guess the rest."

It took Miku a moment to reply. "No."

No? What did she mean by that? Did it mean she couldn't guess the rest, or something else entirely? "Eh?"

"It wasn't your fault!" Miku responded, shaking me. "It was the guy who pulled out!"

I grunted. Her opinion changed nothing. "Try telling that to my mother."

Miku tilted her head quizzically. "Your mother?"

I nodded. "That's what I said. She thinks it's my fault too."

Miku frowned in upon learning this. Something told me that she had taken an immediate disliking to my mother. "But... it's not your fault!" Shrugging idly was the only reply I could think of. There was a deafening lull in the conversation. "You didn't answer the question."

I scratched my head - what had she asked, again? "What question?"

Sighing in exasperation, Miku leaned back. "What was your father like?"

Oh, right. What was he like? "General sort of fatherly type, you know?"

Miku stared at me blankly, like I'd said something incomprehensible. She looked away for a moment. "He was like you, then?"

What? Like me? No, he was... He wasn't like me. More open, jolly and jovial at the worst of times. "What makes you say that?"

Again with the void stare. "You're forgetting that I don't really have parents - the closest thing to a father I've ever had is you."

That statement left me reeling internally. Miku considered me to be her practical father, though how literally she meant that was up for question. "Well, um," I started, trying desperately to get the conversation back on course. "No. Dad wasn't like me at all - he was jolly almost constantly. A room he entered always seemed a little brighter by his mere presence, like he just exuded an atmosphere of mirth. He loved meeting new people, too."

"He sounds like he was a really ni -" Miku stopped abruptly mid-sentence. "John, are you crying?"

"No." I said flatly, turning away and wiping my eyes. It wasn't entirely a lie; I wasn't crying, I was almost crying. "Guys... Guys don't cry." Miku was silent for a moment, then I heard her trying to keep in a laugh. "What's so funny?"

Miku couldn't hold it in. She let out a few sharp laughs before gaining control of herself. "They do cry, especially when you kick them in the balls!" 

I have to admit, that made me chuckle. "How do even know that?"

"Do you remember when we first met?" Miku asked, patting her right leg for some reason.

"Oh, wow." I replied, breaking through the hazy fog that was the memory of that night. "Yeah, you gave that guy a good kicking in the nads, didn't you?"

She nodded vigorously, proud of her achievement. "What do we say to potential rapists? Not today! Then you kick them in the balls."

I stopped laughing all of a sudden. "Did you just say 'potential rapists'?"

Miku stopped laughing as well. "Well, yeah, they... Wow, I really dodged a bullet on that one."

And I thought they were just being generally antisocial. To consider that they had been moments away from sexually abusing her, and that I was the only reason she had retained her innocence... It was a hefty thing. "I stopped you from being raped?"

After a brief moment of retrospect, Miku nodded. "Looks like it." Silence fell into the room, in which Miku stared fixedly at me, obviously thinking about one thing or another. "What is it like?"

Oh, God, not these questions again. They were weird enough the first time. With a sigh, I decided that I may as well answer her questions. "What's what like?" Woah, dejá vu.

A flash of crimson on her cheeks, Miku looked away. "You know."

I know what? "No, I don't."

She glanced at me again, an almost pleading look on her face, like was silently begging me to not be so blind. "What subject were we just on?"

"Well, we were just talking about how -" Oh. Ooooohhh. No wonder she looked embarrassed. "Really? You want to know about that?"

Almost reluctantly, Miku nodded. "That's what I asked."

I shrugged. "I don't know. I've never done it before."

To my genuine and slightly pleasant surprise, Miku looked shocked. "Really? You haven't?"

It was true. I'd never actually done it. There was no point in describing something that I'd never done before. "Really. I haven't."

Miku shifted uncomfortably. "Fat lot of use you are."

I slowly turned toward her. Was she truly, actually insinuating that? "Are you criticising me for not being a slut?"

She shrugged in short reply. "I suppose I am. I mean, come on, you're 21, live a little."

"No." I responded bluntly. There was another deafening lull in the conversation. "Screw it," I decided. "I'm going to have a shower."

With that, I left Miku to mull over how I'd prevented her rape. Honestly, it wasn't the best note to leave on, but I needed a break, you know? I did need a shower, though - I needed to be clean for tomorrow's funeral. I also felt like I needed to be cleaned of Miku's awkward questions.

As soon as I was out of the room, I found myself forgetting about that entirely. I discovered that the tears were on the cusp of returning again as I resumed thinking about my dad. "Pull yourself together, man." I hissed, taking a deep breath. "You can cry all you want tomorrow... just not right now."


	11. Generations

"Miku!" I shouted from the other room, adjusting my tie. I hated wearing suits, they were so uncomfortable. However, it was the day of the funeral, so we required to dress smart.

"Yeah?" Miku replied from the other room, getting dressed.

"They're here."

Miku opened the door. She was wearing the smart black clothes I'd bought her for the funeral. She still had her normal boots on, but I decided that I'd let that go - it wasn't too noticeable. That was when I noticed something else about her person - Remarkably, she had let her hair down. I could now truly see the ridiculous amount of hair she had, all tumbling down her back like an azure waterfall. It didn't look that bad, honestly. It took me a moment to notice that Miku wasn't looking at me, but was reading a book she was holding. Briefly, she glanced up from the book, if only to ascertain my presence. "Who's here?"

I did a final check of my pockets to make sure everything was in order. Keys, phone, wallet, everything was there. "My grandparents."

Miku remained engrossed in the book. What on Earth was she reading about? Was it fiction or non-fiction? Somehow, Miku didn't really seem to be the kind of person who read non-fiction. "Why?"

She had forgotten already. How typical. "Like I told you earlier," I responded, putting particular emphasis on the last word. "They're coming to pick us up."

"Pick you up," Miku replied, her gaze still locked on the book. "They don't know about me."

She had a very valid point there. I swore loudly. I had neglected to tell my grandparents that I was going to bring Miku. Well, I couldn't exactly leave without her, could I? Who knows what she might do in my absence? Besides, I was responsible for her, and simply leaving her here would be irresponsible. Furthermore, I knew how she hated being alone for extended periods of time. It would be much better for her if she accompanied me, despite the problems it could cause me, especially with my mother.

"Nevermind that," I retorted, not wanting to begin an argument. "What are you even reading?"

Miku angled the book so I could see the cover. "It's a book on human anatomy."

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember having that."

Still immersed in the pages, Miku shrugged. Perhaps she was purposefully trying to avoid eye contact? For what reason? "It was in your closet. You have a lot of odd stuff in there."

Oh dear. What else had she found that I'd prefer to be buried in amongst my stuff? "Really? Like what?"

Miku looked up and smiled, closing the book with a snap. "Nothing of note. It was the book that caught my eye. I wanted to know a little more about how this -" Miku made an up-down gesture toward me. "- all works." Oh, well, I suppose that was reasonable. It did not excuse her rooting around in my cupboards, though. She abruptly cast the book down onto the couch. 

"Are we going, then?"

My mind had mysteriously become blank. "Going where?"

Miku rolled her eyes at my ineffectual short term memory, and I really couldn't blame her. "To your grandparents, who are waiting patiently for us."

And it all clicked back into place. "Yeah, yeah, let's go."

Barely a minute afterward, I was leaving my apartment block with Miku in tow, faithfully following me like some sort of hound. That mental statement got me thinking - in today's climate, was a dog truly a man's best friend, or was it instead his machines? Which was ultimately more faithful and longer lasting? The question was a dire one, to be sure.

However, my train of thought halted in its tracks when I caught sight of my grandfather, his presence allowing me to dismiss the critical catechism as trivial. I waved cheerfully despite the heavy weight of my father's death on my shoulders.

"John," He called out as I approached. "It's been a while! How have you been? How is your arm?" My grandfather was, perhaps, a fully-fledged stereotype. Grey hair, no facial hair, wrinkled skin, slate-grey eyes - it seemed he had become fully dedicated to the whole nine yards of the I-am-an-old-guy look. He was not, however, disabled in any shape, way or form. If anything, he was just as fit as I, if a little less muscular.

"I've been... alright, I suppose," I replied, glossing over that two-day period where I drunk a lot. "As for the arm, it's performing admirably." I rolled up my sleeve to show him, but didn't myself look at the arm. I don't know why, but in that moment the arm seemed a little off putting.

"Ah, look at that," My grandfather said, leaning closer to inspect the arm. "I always said this want a mesmerising bit of tech..."

"Um, mister Moody?" Miku piped up all of a sudden. I had almost forgotten she was there. "We should really be going."

With a quick glance at me, my grandfather turned to address Miku. "Apologies, I didn't see you there. Please, call me Geoff." He extended his hand, and a slightly abashed Miku shook it. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, miss...?"

"Hatsune." Miku replied after a brief moment of confusion. Ah, yes, she was inexperienced at talking to strangers. That explained her confusion, poor girl. "Miku Hatsune." She bowed her head respectfully, a gesture I was not familiar with. Perhaps a nod to her Japanese heritage? "Nice to meet you."

My grandfather gave me a glance that was a question. That question was who is she, and why is she with you? Perfectly reasonable. "Sorry, uh, let me explain," I began searching for an excuse. Well, I could hardly tell him that I met Miku in a bar, could I? She didn't even look old enough to drink. I could tell that my grandfather had made a few presumptions on the situation already, though what these were and how baseless they were, I could only speculate. "Miku is an experimental android, and I, uh..." I paused, constructing my excuse, or rather cobbling one together on the fly. "I am contractually obliged - by the government - to look after her until the testing phase is completed. I, I, uh, can't leave her behind, because, you know, that would be disobeying the government, and, you know, that's against the law." Had I done too much?

Much to my relief, he shrugged. "Fair enough. You'll be accompanying my grandson, then?"

Miku nodded cautiously. Was she scared? "Yes, sir."

To my surprise, my grandfather smiled. "Look after the boy, he's very delicate."

Much to my chagrin, Miku started to laugh. I knew what my father was doing, of course, laughter was a good way of drawing a person out of their shell. It wasn't exactly pleasing when you were the butt of the joke used, however. "I will, I will. I've stopped him drinking alcohol recently, does that count?"

Oh no. Miku had just opened up a massive can of worms for me. I silently hoped that my grandfather did not inquire. Much to my relief, he merely glanced at me, and dismissed the matter. "Of course, my dear girl. You know, I know this is going to sound cliché, but back in my day androids were only found in works of fiction."

To my complete lack of surprise, Miku's interest was piqued immediately. "Really?"

He nodded vigorously, in a way that was rather juxtaposing with his whole 'old man aura'. "I remember, in a particularly old TV programme, there was this android called Data and he -"

"I'm sure this story is very interesting, Granddad," I interjected, eager to halt the speech about how the old days were the best. "But can we continue it in the car? We're going to be late."

He made a dismissive gesture. "Very well, we mustn't keep your mother waiting." A minute or two later we were all in his car, with him in the driver's seat, and Miku and I in the passenger seats in the back. "Are we all set? Seatbelts on?"

"What's a seatbelt?" Miku answered, completely unaware of the cannonball effect of her sincere question. My grandfather peered round, perturbed, as I explained to Miku what a seatbelt was. She took up the idea quickly, but it was a brutal reminder of how limited her memory was.

My grandfather cleared his throat, clearly now fully grasping what Miku was. "Oh, John," He began, turning away again and starting the engine. "If you were wondering where your grandmother is, she's already there."

Presumably, 'there' was the location of the funeral. "And where exactly is there?"

"A mile or so away, roughly south west from your apartment block. It's a place called Great Star Chapel. A church, of course, you know your father was a devout Christian."

There was a deadly lull in the conversation, punctuated by the sounds of the road and engine. I glanced over at Miku. She was staring out of the window, enchanted by sights that any other her age would find dull. Abruptly, she looked at me. "I don't understand. What's a Christian?"

"My God..." I heard my grandfather mutter. I snorted. Miku cast me a confused glance. "A Christian is a follower of Christianity, one of the world's largest and oldest religious movements. In short, Christianity is a religion."

I snorted again. It was nowhere near being the oldest, not by a long shot. Miku cocked her head quizzically. "I don't know what a religion is." It took conscious effort for me to bite back my laughter.

"Now, let's see here..." My grandfather began, obviously considering her answer. "Religion is the belief in a higher power, such as a God, often with a moral code attached."

"Um, this is probably another awkward question but..." Oh, oh, here we go. Another question. Miku was looking rather sheepish as she spoke. "What's a God?"

For a minute or so, the only reply was silence. Truly, that had been a strange question. Not even I had expected it, and I'd known her for some time now. It was slowly becoming more and more obvious how much information she was missing. "God is a being - a metaphysical being - with limitless powers, who created everything."

"He didn't create me," Miku replied idly. "I was created by a group of people." The silence after Miku's statement was painful. I'd say it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, but it wasn't really silent - the reticence was as ever punctuated by the crumble of the road and the rumble of the engine. Something told me that, without meaning to, Miku had offended my grandfather. In truth, what she'd said was perfectly logical, but I suppose logic is and always has been the antithesis of religion.

"Well, you were made by people who were made by God. By proxy, you too were made by God." It was a bulletproof argument, despite how petty it sounded to me. To me, it merely sounded like a Christian trying to cover his tracks.

A minute or two passed before Miku spoke again. "Hey, um, mist... I mean, Geoff, what were you saying before John got all pushy and made us get in the car?" I shot a glare at her, but she seemed not to notice.

"Oh, that?" He shifted in his seat slightly. "A long time ago - half a century - sometimes there would be a particular science fiction television programme on. It's name was... Oh, I can't remember it. Anyway, a major character introduced in the first series was an android called Data."

Once more, Miku's interest was piqued. She was clearly intrigued by the character. "What was he like?"

I was sure that my grandfather frowned. "How did you know he was male?"

Miku shrugged, then remembered that he couldn't see her. "I guessed."

"No matter," He replied dismissively, shaking his head. Oh, I didn't like him doing that while driving. "He was a little like you in some respects. There was a lot he didn't understand, but he didn't get an emotion chip until the very end. Unlike you, who seems to be quite emotional already." I noticed that he car was slowing down. "John, Miku, here we are - Great Star Chapel." 

Despite how eye catching it was - being a stone building amidst the barren concrete of the present - it was not of any great significance, being little more than an old, gothic stone building, taller than it was wide. It was the spire that grabbed my attention, appearing to twist until its point, where there was a large compass rose, like an eight-pointed star. It seemed a little out of place. That was most likely from where the church took its name. There was nothing else of note about the building, not even the stained-glass windows, which were not visible from this angle. I had little doubt that Miku would be amazed by the sight of these windows whenever we finally saw them.

Miku looked even more enchanted than usual, gazing longingly out of the window. "It's... It's made of stone! How did they get so much rock in one place? Why does the roof look like an ice cream cone?" I laughed. It was funny how Miku could be enthralled by the simplest of things.

Abruptly, I stopped laughing. "Oh, shit."

A questing look on her face, Miku glanced at me. "What?"

The sky may have been crystal clear, but there was a metaphorical thunderstorm brewing on the horizon, rumbling and roaring with rage. "I see my mother." I sighed dejectedly. "A storm cometh."


	12. Relative

I specifically avoided coming within ten metres of my mother as we entered the grounds of the church. There were about two-dozen people, family and friends of family. I suppose that Miku fell under the category of friends of family, but I wasn't sure.

"Joooohn!" A voice called out from my right. Well, if my mother hadn't known I was here already, she did now. I barely had time to turn to see whoever had called my name before they were upon me. My younger brother pulled me into a lung-crushing bear hug.

“Zachary," I wheezed, trying to escape. "Let - Let me go." It felt like he was trying to crush the life from me. I don't think he was aware of how he was preventing me from breathing.

Thankfully, he was sane enough to listen. I took a deep, desperate breath as Zachary's arms receded. "John," He mumbled dejectedly. "It's been... a while."

I nodded, then picked up on a scent in his breath that I didn't like. "Brother..." I began in a commanding tone. It was then I noticed the webs of capillaries in the whites of his eyes, the spiky scruff of unshaved facial hair, the dirt rubbed into his skin, the bags under his eyes.

Zachary winced at my tone. "Yeah?"

"Have you been drinking?"

He shrugged in reply. "Yeah, what of it?"

He'd just dismissed it. My brother had dismissed his problem like it had been nothing at all. "What of it?" I echoed, barely able to believe what I'd heard. "Turning to alcohol is no way of coping. Trust me, it'll only make things worse."

Zachary snorted. "Whatever." He finally acknowledged Miku's presence. "Who's this? You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend."

I cast a side glance at her to make sure she was still there. Her face had turned a deep scarlet in embarrassment at Zachary's presumption, and I couldn't blame her. It had been a bit of a jump. "I-I'm not his girlfriend! No, no, nothing like that!"

I held my tongue. For some reason, I wanted to see how this played out. "Then what are you?" Zachary grumbled, his voice slightly slurred. "Friend?"

"Yes."

"Roommate?"

"I guess."

"Wife?"

"No."

"Pet?"

"No."

"Maid?"

"No." Surely he didn't have any more…

"Work acquaintance?" My God, he did.

"No."

"Let me think about this... Apprentice?"

I sighed. "No."

"Uh... Child?"

"No."

"Bastard child?"

"No."

"Adopted orphan? Second cousin three-times removed?"

How long was this going to go on for? "No and no."

He leaned in, glaring. "She's not pay-per-hour, is sh - Ow! I was just asking!"

I shook the blood back in to my hand. "No, no, nothing of the sort. We're not romantically involved in any shape, way or form."

Zachary glared at me groggily through his beer goggles. "Then what is she?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What were we? What exactly were Miku and I? In terms of relationship, what would we be referred to as? We were friends, certainly, we lived in the same apartment... "Actually, I guess roommate is the most accurate suggestion." I glanced to my right only to find that Miku had been gradually increasing the distance between her and my brother, a mixed look of confusion and disgust on her face.

Zachary sniffed, staring past me groggily. "You're not an item?" I shook my head in silent reply. I didn't remember my brother being quite this dumb. Perhaps it was the alcohol? "So... She's single, ready to mingle?"

To my surprise - and my amusement - Miku blew a raspberry. "I'm not interested in lecherous drunkards!"

Zachary laughed, stumbling to the side a few steps for no apparent reason. "I don't know what one of those words means, so I'll presume it was a compliment."

I grabbed Miku by the hand, glaring sharply at my younger sibling. "Come on, Miku, you don't want to talk to him." Miku was happy to follow my command, obligingly coming with me as I left my brother behind. I paused, looking over my shoulder. Zachary was still laughing. "And neither do I." I shouted at him, though he seemed not to notice. "Sorry about that, Miku, he's a nice enough guy when he's -"

"Johnathan Moody." A shrill voice commanded out of the blue.

"Bollocks." I didn't have to turn toward to source of the voice to know who it was - it was my mother, as pissed off with me as ever. I took a moment to twist my scowl into a thin smile. It was a poor disguise, I knew that, and I hoped to a God I didn't even believe in that she pointed it out. I also hoped that she would notice my companion. Miku hid timidly behind me, still clutching my hand desperately as I spun around to face my foe. "Mother."

She glared at me with arctic eyes. "What are you doing here?"

I glared back with a gaze equally frosty. "He was my father. I have a right to be here."

Mother pointed at me accusingly. "You're the one who killed him. You've as much right to be here as a rat." There was a grinding of metal on metal as my right hand twisted into a fist. Her gaze shifted to Miku, who was nervously peering around me. "And who's this? Erstwhile companion?"

"None of your business."

My mother straightened up almost imperceptibly, a look of disdain on her face. "I need to know who's here and who's not. Tell me or you both leave."

I took a deep breath. "You do not have the authority to remove me from the funeral. Besides," I leaned in, getting uncomfortably close. "Do you really want to be known as the mother who rejected her own son? I'm sure the papers would love it." Stepping back again, I nodded toward Miku. "As for my friend, this is Miku. She is an android, and I am her temporary guardian."

Mother's glare didn't change. "You're lying. You're lying like how you lied about killing your father."

I grunted, thinking of something blunt to say. "If I told you that she was my whore, would you believe me?" I heard Miku start to laugh. The noise only served to make my mother angrier.

"Quiet, you." She snapped. Miku kept laughing. I was enjoying this.

I cleared my throat noisily. "Miku, please."

Miku appeared from behind me, forcing down her giggles. "S-sorry. That was funny."

Smiling, I returned my gaze to the ball of barely contained rage in front of me. "I'm not the one you should be having stern words with," I nodded toward Zachary, who was wandering aimlessly like an inebriated puppy. "My brother, the favoured prodigal son, has turned to alcohol. Go help him, mother."

Speechless, my mother marched past me, scowling like a petulant child. I straightened my tie, then glanced at Miku, who had stopped hiding. "I think that want rather well, don't you?"

Miku shrugged, keeping close to me. "Your mother scares me."

I frowned. Sure, my mother was an imposing figure, but a person to be feared? Surely not. "Scares you? Like, you feared her?"

She nodded. "Scared me. I don't like it here. Too many strange people."

I ruffled Miku's hair. "No worries. Nobody is going to hurt you." Miku squirmed, evidently disliking her hair being messed with. My gaze returned to the crowd, seeing which of my relatives were here. Both pairs of my grandparents, my uncles and aunts, cousins. Suddenly, somebody waved at me. It was my elder sister, Elizabeth. I waved back, then noticed that there was a small child clutching her hand. Then it hit me.

"Oh. Wow."

I felt Miku tug at my arm. "What?"

"I'm an uncle." I could hardly believe it myself. There was a moment of profound silence, almost as if the entire world was pausing to give me a few seconds to cope.

Miku squinted at me sceptically. "What? Moody, how do you know?"

I pointed at Elizabeth. "Do you see her? That's my older sister."

"She looks nice. Can we go and say hello?" Miku looked hopeful. Strange, she was so reluctant at meeting Zachary, my mother, and my grandfather - but no problem at all with my sister. Perhaps it was simply because Elizabeth was, well, also a girl.

I started to walk toward my sister, keeping a firm hold of Miku's hand. "I really want to walk the other way."

Beside me, Miku gave me a confused look. "Why? That's your sister."

"I only just found out about her child, who seems to already be a few years old at this point." I gulped. "She's not going to be pleased."

Despite that, Elizabeth welcomed me with a wide smile. My sister was older than me by a good six years - making her 27 presently. She hugged me with her free hand, and I hugged her back with both of mine. "John," She said cheerfully when she let me go. "It's been too long! How are you?"

It was only now that I realised I had really been missing my sister's upbeat charm. She had inherited that from her father, and I suppose under the same logic I ironically inherited my surliness from my mother. "I'm doing pretty good, and you?"

Elizabeth beamed at me. "I'm great! My books are selling, my family is growing..."

I smiled back at her, her attitude rather infectious. "You didn't tell me I was an uncle!"

She shook her head, the smile seemingly permanent. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Congratulations!"

My sister laughed heartily. "You're a little late - she's already four years old."

"You didn't tell me!"

Her voice sounded strained at this point. "You never gave me your contact details!"

Simultaneously, we turned to look at her daughter, but fell into silence. Miku was kneeling opposite Elizabeth's daughter, smiling slightly. "Hello." Miku said softly. "What's your name?"

The girl looked timid, but there was a sparkle in her eyes. "Mary."

"Hello, Mary. My name is Miku." Miku leaned forward slightly. What on Earth was she doing? "I'm looking for a little princess somewhere around here. Do you know one?"

Mary smiled bashfully. "Me?"

Miku looked comically surprised, though I knew it was little more than an act. "Are you a princess?" Mary nodded with vigour. "Great! I'm a princess too! Can we be friends?" Mary nodded again, even more jovially.

Elizabeth nudged me. "Who's this Miku girl? Is she your girlfriend?"

I was glad that Miku's attention was elsewhere. I made a dismissive gesture. "No, no. Miku is a machine - an android. I'm just looking after her."

"I don't know..." Elizabeth muttered, a smile ghosting across her face. "I always thought you had a thing for the cute ones."

I tried my hardest to stop smiling. "Oh, shut up."

"Machine, huh? Does she come with extras?" I snorted before I could prevent myself. Oh, she was really pushing it, but I didn't mind. Anything to get away from the tetchy subject of why we were here. "Long battery life?"

Actually, that was a fair point. What did she run on? She certainly hadn't charged herself in the past few days. "You've got a point there. She hasn't been charged or anything. I've known her for a few days, so, I suppose..."

Elizabeth patted me on the back. "Hey, hey, it's just a joke. Why so serious?"

I exhaled heavily, for a moment unable to express myself verbally for a moment. "You know how I am with jokes."

My sister put an arm on my shoulder. "Come on, John. Lighten up. Are you feeling alright?"

Grimacing, I shrugged her hand off. Could she really be so blind? How? Well, I couldn't avoid the subject now. "I was in the car, Liz. I was there."

Elizabeth sighed, giving me an understanding look. "Come on, you just need to... to let it go." If only it was that simple. Evidently, that empathetic look was a falsehood. She didn't know how I felt, not in the slightest. "She'll kill me if she finds out I said this, but I don't care what Mum says - you're innocent."

Before I could retort, Miku stood up and extended her hand toward my sister. "Hatsune Miku. Nice to meet you."

Honestly, I was thankful for the distraction. Elizabeth smiled, shaking Miku's hand. "Hi, Hatsune. I'm Elizabeth; Elizabeth Bright. Nice to meet you too."

Miku shook her head for reasons I could not fathom. "Let me explain - my name is Japanese, so Hatsune is my family name."

"Oops, I didn't know. Sorry Miku."

The android smiled broadly. "It's okay, an easy mistake to make." She gestured toward Elizabeth's daughter. "Your daughter is a very nice young lady, you have brought her up well..."

After that, I grew bored of the conversation. It was small talk, no, smaller than small talk. I thought that small talk was the bane of excitement.

Well, nobody cared what I thought. Especially now, with Elizabeth and Miku in full conversation - I might as well have been invisible with how much I was involved. Well, at least Miku wasn't standing around looking like an abashed vegetable like she was with Zachary.

Speaking of my brother, I noticed that he and the two-dozen others were entering the chapel. "Sorry to interrupt, ladies," I interrupted, lying with my first word. "But we appear to be going inside."

Elizabeth nodded toward the lump of gothic stone that accounted for a church. "Shall we?" As expected, they too set off.

I paused for a moment. This was it. Last chance to say goodbye to my father. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out slowly. The ceremony to respect his passing. Here we go.

"John, come on!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming,"


	13. Excuse

It didn't take much for the first tears to brim in my eyes, blurring the edges of my vision. The casket was open, but unlike the others I could bring myself to peer inside. I found myself positively glued to the pew, glaring at the hewn stone floor, unable to bring my vision up for fear of what I might see.

The vicar was saying something. I knew exactly what he was saying, despite paying him no attention whatsoever. I just stared at the rocky tiles, distraught. I didn't want to be here, not now, not ever.

Elizabeth nudged me, drawing my gaze up. She nodded toward the casket, directing me to go to the altar to pay my respects.

With a deep breath rushing into my lungs, I stood. Shuddering, I paced down the aisle, ignoring the frozen glare of my mother as I passed.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I looked hard at the corpse of my father. My stomach felt like it was twisting and crumpling inwards. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I was a loss for words. I closed it again, seeing the edges of my vision blur once more. A scar on my father's neck caught my eyes for a moment before everything became unfocused.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling the tears escape me. "I... I can't do this." I turned, walking swiftly back down the aisle toward the oaken doors.

 

* * *

The rain was beating down hard, and a vicious wind was roaring like an animal. I didn't care. If anything, the rain felt good, bitingly refreshing. Besides that, it hid the tears trickling down my cheeks.

I simply couldn't do it. I couldn't bear seeing my father like that. I meant no disrespect by leaving, of course, but I knew I would be persecuted for it anyway. I was not looking forward to my mother having words with me. Perhaps it would be better for everyone if I just upped and left?

I heard the door open behind me, but ignored it. It was probably my mother, and I would be better off if I blanked her. I straightened my back a little, bracing myself for the talking to I was moments away from, trying my hardest to hold back my tears.

"Moody?" Oh, it wasn't my mother at all. It was Miku, and it sounded almost as if she was afraid to talk to me. "Come back inside. Nobody is mad at you." Wrong. My mother would be mad at me, like she always was. Like she'd been for two entire years. It was an unending hatred, something that would burn until the end of time. There was no changing it, no dousing of the flames... "Not even your mother."

Lies. I turned to face her, glaring through the storm. "Don't lie to me." I snapped, trying desperately to feel any emotion other than despair.

There was pity in her eyes. The despair only grew, by now feeling like a dagger of ice in my chest. "Are you crying?"

Solemnly, I nodded. There was no use in being hypocritical, not this time anyway. "Yeah," I sniffed, unable to keep eye contact. "What of it?"

To my surprise, Miku ran out into the rain and hugged me tightly. The tears forced their way past my defences, rolling down my cheeks once more. I buried my face in her hair, returning the embrace. "Don't. Don't cry. I'm here." That only made me cry more. In the end, it hadn't been a member of my family that came out and comforted me - it had been somebody who days ago was a complete stranger. "Moody, you're... you're shaking." It was true. I was trembling like I was in hypothermia, but in truth I was not cold. My core felt molten with anger, but also frozen with sadness. I felt ill, especially in my stomach, which felt like there was a bundle of live snakes inside.

I took a deep breath, letting go of her. Everything was going to be okay. My mother was going to whine at me, but in the end nothing would change. My mother would still be mad at me, my father would still be gone. Releasing my breath, I tried to step back, but Miku kept me rooted to the spot. It reminded me of how unconventionally strong she was. "Miku," I murmured, only now starting to feel the cold. The chill of the rain was making my skin crawl. "Let go of me."

"No," Miku replied, shaking her head. "Not until you stop crying."

I laughed dejectedly, wiping my eyes. Such a child. "Look at me," I said softly. Slowly, she did as I said, a look of pensive sympathy on her face. "I'm not crying anymore. Thank you."

Miku smiled weakly. "You need to talk to people."

I nodded, hunching over slightly to protect her from the rain. "I know, I know."

Miku released me, backing away towards the door. "Can we please go back inside? It's awful out here."

Wiping a trickle of rainwater from my forehead, I nodded my agreement. If I were to stay out here for much longer, I would become hypothermic. "Yeah." Before I opened the oaken door, I paused. "I'm going to live to regret this, aren't I?" Miku didn't answer. The silence, punctuated by the howling of the gale and the spatter of the rain, was not comforting. Maintaining my composure would be of utmost importance. I gulped down a breath of chilled air and opened the door. 

I took only a few steps before I was beset upon by the mother I feared - but she did not appear to be, as I had previously anticipated, angry in anyway. What I saw on her face instead was much more worrying, and much more disturbing. What I saw on my mother's face was sorrow, deep and honest.

Unintentionally, I stepped back, startled by her sudden lack of rage. An alien feeling crept up on me - concern for my mother. "Mum?" I began hesitantly. Even though I know that it was not good that she was in this state, I did not need her to become angry again. "What's wrong?" A regretful mood hung about my mother like storm clouds. She murmured something, far too quiet for me to hear. I almost jumped at the feeling of Miku clutching my arm; I had been so absorbed in trying to work out what on Earth had gotten into my mother that I failed to notice her approach. "What?"

Miku shifted uncomfortably as my mother cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have known better." What was most shocking about her confession was the fact it was putting her almost to tears. It was a little satisfying, really. "You weren't guilty. You weren't guilty of anything." Speaking of guilt, that was the only emotion her voice seemed to carry - nothing but a hollow shell of guilt. "You could never kill your own father." I felt as if something wasn't quite right with this admission, like part of it, however small, was entirely fabricated. Surely it couldn't be true that she'd abruptly seen the error of her ways, no, such a thing was unheard of anywhere outside the realms of fiction. I didn't care what she had to say - no matter what, at least a small portion of this last-moment revelation was a lie. "Can you forgive me?"

The bombshell smashed through all my thoughts, instantly becoming a question of immediate and critical importance. Could I forgive her? Could I forgive my own mother for how she'd given me hell for the last two years? Miku tugged at my arm to get my attention, and it worked. I glanced at her, reading her expression in an instant.

Silently, Miku was urging me to make the right choice - but what she felt was the right choice and what I felt were two different things. I gave my mother a hard stare, once more considering the question. She had accused me, her son, her own flesh and blood, of murdering her husband, my own father, in a vehicular crash where nobody in particular could take all the blame. And yet, she had thought it perfectly acceptable to use me as a scapegoat. Could I forgive her? The answer was painfully obvious.

"I'm sorry too," I began, trembling under the weight of my own answer. Both my mother and Miku looked confused. "I'm sorry because... What you've done..." I took a deep, almost raspy breath and continued. "You accused me of the death of my father whilst I was still hospitalised. You refused to hear my side of the story. You threatened legal action. You disowned me." I couldn't stop the tears from blurring my vision as my voice rose. The word became an incoherent, unfocused mess of colour. The colour was mostly red. "Can I forgive you?!" I echoed, trembling with anger. With far too much conscious effort that I would like, I toned my voice down to a deadly monotone. "The answer is just the same as when I asked you the same question two years ago. I could never forgive you. Never. Not whilst my heart still beats." I wiped the tears from my vision, seeing my mother come into clarity again. "Forgive you? Over my dead body."

Defeated, my mother looked down at her feet. "I... I understand." I saw a stray tear run down her cheek.

I nodded solemnly. "I know you do." Dejectedly, my mother returned to her seat. I gulped. I had mixed feelings. I was glad that she'd seen the error of her ways, but... it felt like a pyrrhic victory. Nothing was gained from this. Emptiness, not satisfaction, was what I felt. This was no true victory, not by the true meaning of the word - we were still at odds with each other, though in truth that was my fault. What I had said had utterly annihilated any chance of reconciliation. That said, I don't believe I could have put it any other way. After all, it was her who had encouraged me as an infant to speak as I felt. "Did I do the right thing, Miku?"

"That's not for me to answer. Do you think you did the right thing?"

I sighed, trying to halt the trembling of my limbs. "No. I... No, I don't think so."


	14. Perception

“Anything?” I asked, appearing at Miku’s shoulder. She flinched, having had all her attention devoted to the files she’d picked out earlier. We were trying to find out as much as we could about Vocaloids, so we could work out Miku’s past just as I had promised.

“Nothing.” Strictly speaking, currently only she was looking. Despite her protests at being left alone, I had gone for some coffee and had just come back. She seemed to have coped well enough without me, though.

“Really? Nothing worthy of merit?” That wasn’t good. We kept running into dead ends no matter where we looked.

Miku pushed her new red-framed glasses a little further up. “Nothing at all.” As it turned out, whatever engineers had built Miku hadn’t properly calibrated her lenses (that’s what she told me, anyway), making her slightly long sighted. To me, it was weird how a human analog like her would have such a basic flaw.

Shaking the thought from my head, I checked my watch. 29th December, 9:41 AM. It had been a full four days since the funeral, but nothing much had actually changed. Well, nothing much with me, anyway. To quote Miku herself, I was still ‘grey as a storm cloud.’ Miku, however, had changed. After the funeral she had instantly become far more focused, almost to the point of being desperate to learn the truth of her creation. To be honest, I actually kind of missed the old, jubilant pre-funeral Miku.

Glancing up at me, Miku removed her spectacles, placing them on the table. “How was your coffee?”

I nodded, taking a moment to scan over all the files and pieces of paper that Miku had been researching. There was plenty of stuff about Yamaha there, but none about Vocaloid or anything remotely like that. “Yeah, it was good.”

“Better than mine?” From her tone, I could tell that Miku already knew the answer.

“Nope.” It wouldn’t hurt anybody to play along. I had grown used to the way Miku loved to feel like she was on top, like she was the best around. Thought I wouldn’t openly admit it, I liked seeing her happy.

Miku glared at the files again, scattered around the desk like a miniature paper bomb had detonated. “Why can’t I find anything?”

I shrugged, picking up one of the sheets. “Maybe there isn’t anything.”

Now she was pouting with her arms crossed. “But I’ve been released, haven’t I? There has to be something… Stupid Yamaha.”

The sheet said something about singing voice synthesis, but it seemed to just be some kind of software, in no way related to the kind of hardware that Miku constituted for. I placed it back down and picked up another, hoping to glean even the tiniest scrap of useful information.

No such luck. This was just about the company’s internal structure. With a grunt of dissatisfaction, I discarded the sheet onto the table.

Four days. Four days of research had culminated in absolutely nothing of merit. All we had learned was that Miku needed reading glasses. I sighed, slumping into the empty chair beside her.

Drearily, Miku lay her head on my shoulder. “I’m bored.”

I started to fiddle with the hem of my coat. “Yeah, me too.”

“Thanks for the glasses, by the way,” Miku mumbled, poking the aforementioned item.

I frowned. “Haven’t you thanked me already?”

She nodded, shuffling around some of the sheets, presumably out of sheer boredom. “Five times, but does that really matter?”

I rolled my neck to a chorus of clicks. “I suppose not.” I found myself suppressing a titanic yawn despite the caffeine in my system. Miku was staring at me, a twinge of jealously ghosting across her face. Of all things, she wanted to be able to yawn. It was actually quite pitiable. I ruffled her hair with a sigh. For once, she didn’t seem to mind. “We’ll get there in the end, I swear.”

Silence was Miku’s only reply. After a moment, she let out a wordless grumble. “The end doesn’t come quick enough.”

It took me a moment to fully grasp what she had said. “Don’t say things like that.” It did not bode well.

The android gave me a confused glance. “Why not?”

“It sounded very…” I paused, trying to find the right word. “Fatalistic.”

“I’m an android who doesn’t eat, sleep or breathe,” Miku replied in monotone, laying her head once more on my shoulder. “And you’re expecting me to not be fatalistic?”

She had a point there. “Touché.” Actually, when I actually thought about it… There was a fault in her argument. “Hold on, where does mortality come into this?”

“Damn it, John,” Miku mumbled, putting her glasses back on. They completely changed how she looked, making her seem a little smarter but also a little cuter. I shook the thought from my head. “I’m a singing android, not a doctor of philosophy.” I laughed in spite of our serious topic. Miku elbowed me sharply in the ribs. “Quieten down; this is a library.”

Despite my misgivings at being told what to do by a sixteen year old, I knew very well that Miku was entirely correct. This was, after all, a library. It was meant to be relatively quiet. That being said, it didn’t stop the elbow to the ribs from hurting. “Yeah, yeah, alright,” I sighed, sinking into the chair a little more. It was wooden, possibly real wood too, and was surprisingly comfortable to sit on despite the complete lack of any kind of padding. They just didn’t make chairs like these anymore.

It was then I noticed the repercussive trembling coming from my right shoulder, the shoulder that Miku was resting her head on. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m -”

“You’re shivering.” I interrupted her. I didn’t know if she could go into some kind of hypothermic sleep mode, but I was unwilling to find out.

At this, Miku nodded. “Okay, okay, I’m cold. It’s a little chilly in here. I just… I didn’t want to worry you.”

Of all the things she could have said in that moment, that was perhaps the most touching. I gulped. Miku moved her head from my shoulder as I removed my jacket before handing it to her with gusto. “Here.”

“Thanks, John,” Miku purred softly. “You’re a lifesaver.”

The lifesaver of something that wasn’t alive in the first place. Charming. I was quick to put the thought out of my mind, but not quick enough. It lingered. I crossed my arms, drawing them close to my body in an attempt to keep warm. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” It wasn’t working - my mechanical arm only served to make my core cooler. Nevertheless, I kept them crossed, if only because it was comfortable.

For the umpteenth time, Miku put her head on my shoulder. I frowned down at her. That hulking mass of metal could not have been comfortable in the slightest, but Miku seemed to simply not there. Perhaps it was for a different kind of comfort that she lay her head on me?

I reached over to the papers and picked one up at random. It was the one about Singing Voice Synthesis again. Deciding that, at least for the moment, I had nothing better to do I began to read.

“Vocaloid is a type of Singing Voice Synthesis software from the early 21st Century -”

“Wait, what?” Miku and I said simultaneously.

“No you’re not?” I asked, confused. Miku was hardware, not software. Besides, she wasn’t from earlier this century. I brang the sheet closer, barely able to believe what I was reading. “This computer-based program uses a piano-roll type interface to produce sounds mimicking human singing. Each vocaloid has a distinctive appearance and its own name, as well as assigned physical characteristics i.e. weight, height. Of particular note is….” I trailed off, my eyes widening. How could this possibly be true?

“I hate it when you do that.” Miku whined fervently, eager for me to finish the sentence. “What? What is of particular note?”

I took a deep breath before continuing. “Of particular note is the first Japanese Vocaloid using the Vocaloid 2 engine, and the seventh Vocaloid in production, Hatsune Miku.”

Miku’s initial reply was merely an empty stare. “What?”

Had she not heard me correctly? “The fir-”

“I heard what you said,” Miku snapped, snatching the sheet away for a closer look. “I just… don’t… I just don’t understand.” I saw her eyes darting back and forth, practically blurring with motion, scanning the page for any useful morsel of information she could acquire. “This document is over half a century old. I… How?”

I shrugged. Did she really expect me to have an answer? I knew just as much as she did. Miku muttered something in moonspeak, still glaring at the sheet. She was glaring so threateningly that I was surprised the page didn’t spontaneously combust. “I don’t know either, Miku. Maybe it’s falsified?”

Miku shook her head, giving me a sideways glance. “Nothing looks out of place, which either means it’s all true or…”

“Or it’s all fake.” I finished. Which one was it? Despite how I wanted to feel about the confusion information, it seemed only one answer was logical. “Somehow I doubt that somebody would go to this length to fake this many documents,” I noted, making a sweeping gesture over the table for emphasis as I spoke. “And when you have eliminated the impossible…”

“So it’s true,” Miku breathed, barely able to believe the revelation. “But what does that mean for me? I know I’m a vocaloid, but… software?”

I agreed wholeheartedly - it didn’t make any sense. It was plain to me that Miku was not a computer program with a ‘piano-roll type interface’, whatever that meant. “I’ve never been one to discount coincidences - but this is no coincidence, that’s for sure.”

“That’s for sure…” Miku echoed. She said something sharply under her breath, and thought I didn’t speak a word of Japanese I could tell from the tone that she had swore. At last, she dropped the sheet. “I don’t know what to make of this.”

I noticed that I had been twiddling my thumbs for the past few minutes, and stuffed my hands in my pockets abruptly. An errant answer struck me, a half-epiphany of sorts. It almost made sense. Almost. “What if you’re based on this Vocaloid software?”

“So I’m a copy?”

“No, no,” I responded before she could self-deprecate further. “A… A recreation, perhaps. An advanced form of the technology involved. A concerted effort to combine vocaloid software with a physical body, maybe.”

Miku seemed assured by this, but I had an inkling that she was still ill at ease. Abruptly, Miku visibly deflated, her teal hair cascading down her shoulder and onto her lap as she sank down into the comfort of the chair. “A recreation… so, I’m not original.”

“No, I…” I trailed off as I realised that she was entirely correct, but I knew I couldn’t let her fall into a downward depressive spiral. I was responsible for Miku’s well being, if only because there was nobody else. “Look around you.”

Miku had started pouting. “Why?”

“Look around, Miku.” I commanded sternly. This time, she did as she was told “Do you see another Miku in here?”

The silence was tangible, like the air itself was bitter with quiescence. Thankfully, after a moment Miku broke the muteness. “No.”

“Have you seen another Miku anywhere at all?”

The corner of Miku’s mouth twitched upward for an instant. The movement was nigh-imperceptible, but I somehow managed to see the brief smile. “No, I haven’t.”

I grinned openly. “Exactly. You are the original.” I put my arm around her, my hand coming to rest on her far shoulder. “There is only one true Miku Hatsune.”

Slanted eyes glanced my way, a tiny spark within their sapphire depths. “You always know what to say.”

My smile became a little more sheepish. “No, it’s all spur-of-the-moment. I’m just lucky.” I cleared my throat, simultaneously pulling Miku a little closer. Instinctively, her head came to rest on my shoulder for the millionth time that day. “Remember this; you are a wonder of modern technology. You are amazing. But, remember this too; you are no mere robot, you’re a blurred line. You’re a new era. You are a connection. A bridge, spanning the chasm between man and machine. The android who cried.”

A single, glistening tear ran down Miku’s cheek, almost to emphasise my closing statement. “You give the best speeches.”

I shook my head. “My father’s were better. I learned from the best.” 

“The android who cried…” Miku echoed, apparently completely caught up in her own thoughts.

I ruffled her hair. “And the android who laughed.”


	15. Suspicion

"So we're here?" Miku enquired, pointing out our exact location on the map with pinpoint accuracy. It may have taken her a little while to grasp the concept of a map, but as soon as she had it was like she'd used maps all her life.

"Right there, yeah," I agreed, blowing into my closed first in an attempt to ward off frostbite. I disliked winter for the cold and the cold on, I was fine with rain and snow.

"And we met over here... and... Where is your workshop again?"

With a sigh, I traced a line from our current location to the place where I worked. It was a route that I was familiar with. "Right there, by that store."

Miku gave me a confused side glance. "And why are we going there again?"

I took a deep breath. She hadn't been paying attention. I suppose she had a valid excuse, being all caught up in her voyage of self discovery, but that didn't make it any less annoying. I rolled up my right sleeve, bearing my steel muscles and talonite knuckles to the winter air. I pointed at one of the metal fibres, one which appeared to have snapped in two. "I need to replace this."

She looked surprised, her gaze finally dragged from the map. "When - and how - did that break?"

My only answer was an empty shrug. I had just found it like that. Miku folded up the map and popped it into her pocket. "No idea. I've got spares, and the tools to attach them, at my workshop."

From her sudden change in expression, I could tell that it had all clicked in Miku's head. She nodded fervently. "Okay!"

The abrupt change caught me off guard, and for a moment I considered a reply before thinking the better of it.

My breath was puffing out as white mist as I marched through the streets with Miku faithfully in tow. How long had it been now? How long had it been since I had taken her under my wing? It seemed like an eternity, like she'd always been there. I was so used to it by now that it was hard to imagine my day without her.

Actually, when I thought about it, it was fairly easy to imagine life in her absence - simple. Without her, life would be simple and boring. Miku added some much-needed colour to my life, and that wasn't just down to the shade of her hair. Not only that, but she was the sole reason I hadn't ended up in the same state as Zachary - a drunkard.

Miku's silence did not last long, only half a minute passed before she broke it. "Are you going to be okay?"

What on Earth was she worrying about now? "Eh?"

Her lower lip trembled. "Your arm. Are you going to be okay?"

Really? Is that what she was worried about? Honestly, she had much more pressing things to be concerned over "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Miku was looking more worried by the second, which in turn was making me more worried by the second - I didn't need her to start crying in the middle of the street. That would be sure to make a scene. The crisis must be averted! "I mean, part of your arm broke…"

"It's nothing," I interjected, eager to stop the downward spiral looming over the horizon. "Routine maintenance. Just regular, day-to-day wear and tear, nothing to be concerned about."

Miku didn't look convinced, but nodded anyway. It seemed she was almost to the point of crying. I felt I would never truly comprehend the inner machinations of her mechanical mind. "What did it feel like?"

It seemed it was time for weird questions again. Despite my lack of enthusiasm for such a turn of events, I decided it would be for the best if I played along. "The fibre snapping?" Miku nodded, the concern etched plainly into her features. In all honesty, the way she was getting worked up over nothing was a little (read: very) annoying. "You're forgetting that there are no nerves in the arm. I felt nothing."

A car horn punctuated the silence that followed. Then came the avalanche. "When did it happen? Why? What did it sound like?"

Abruptly, I came to a halt. I hadn't enough time to brace before the bombardment of questions smashed their way straight through my willpower. I was unable to resist answering the flurry of questions in any way other than snappy. "Eleven-thirty AM. Woke up. Attached my arm. Flexed it. Fibre had been weather-worn. Zinc coating gone. Steel rusted. Integrity failed." I leaned closer. "Twang."

To my surprise, my reaction did not take Miku aback, or visibly shock her at all. "Oh." That was her only reaction. One simply monosyllabic word. I shook my head and carried on walking.

I liked Miku. I really did. But when she asked stupid questions - well, let's just say I did not suffer fools lightly. I did not suffer fools at all. It wasn't my job to tell people what to do and it wasn't my job to tell people about what had happened when and where.

I shook the thoughts from my cold-numbed head and glanced over my shoulder. Miku was stood stock-still, staring blankly into a shop window. I groaned as an overwhelming sense of déjà vu washed over me. I paused, glaring at my feet and taking a deep breath. I wasn't going to buy it. Whatever it was, I was going to refuse. In a split second, I wheeled around on my heel and marched toward her. Miku seemed completely oblivious to my presence by her side. "What are you so fixated on?"

Miku didn't even look at me. Her arm swept up, her finger directing my gaze to the item of interest. I followed the tip of her finger to the exact point she was indicating. There was somebody stood in the shop window. It was a young boy with blond hair and piercing yellow eyes. He was stood as still as a statue, and though one could easily pass him off as a mannequin there was something about him that made me consider otherwise. A blue and white but otherwise featureless sailor's cap was perched atop his head. His golden eyes were half-lidded, open but unseeing. "Him."

I looked from the boy to her, and back. "What about him?"

Miku shrugged. "I don't know. I think he's mechanical."

She could tell from a single glance? "How do you know?"

"I don't." I gave her a hard stare, which she returned. "I merely inferred it from the fact he's immobile."

I raised an eyebrow. "Inferred?"

Miku frowned. "I can read the dictionary too, you know."

I felt a smile split my lips wide open, a low chuckle escaping me. How Miku's voice managed to carry such dryness with such a high pitch I was unable to tell. It was comical, that was for sure. She smiled too, knowing fully what she'd done. "You make me laugh."

There was a little spark in Miku's eyes. "I try to. It doesn't always work."

I nodded. "Yeah, sometimes you just come off as a bit of an idiot."

She slapped my arm playfully, thankfully with only a fraction of the force her slender arms truly possessed. "Shut it, baka."

The hell did that mean? In context, I could easily imply the meaning, but I could not be sure. From what I could work out, though… "Eh?"

There was a sort of choking noise as Miku fought to suppress her laughter. "Basically, I called you an idiot."

Good to know. She could insult me in two languages. Fantastic. I shook the train of thought from its tracks before it angered me. "So," I began, directing my gaze once more to the boy in the window. "What caught your eye about him?"

"I think…" Miku paused for a good few seconds. "I think he might be a Vocaloid."

I felt my right eyebrow raised itself, such was my scepticism that my body was acting of its own accord. "But he looks like he's, I don't know, about twelve." It was true, the boy looked too young to even be in his first year of high school.

"What does that matter?" Miku replied, looking me directly in the eye. "Who says a Vocaloid can't be a twelve year old? Maybe he's a choir singer or something."

I sniffed. "Maybe." There was an awkward lull in the conversation. "Well, whatever he is, he's definitely caucasian."

Miku made a confused noise. "Caucasian?"

I nodded vigorously. "Well, look at the similarities between us, mostly the eye shape and skin tone. We're kind of similar, right?"

The android glanced between us. "Oh, yeah. You are. So, he's probably not Kagamine Len, then…"

Again with the words I had no idea the meaning of. "What?"

Miku waved her hand dismissively. "One of the names of the Vocaloids on that poster we found. Len is a male name, so I very naturally presumed he would be male. Seeing as this Vocaloid here isn't Japanese, though..."

And it clicked into place, another piece of the jigsaw. We were still nowhere near having the complete picture, however. I wasn't even sure if we had all the right pieces. "You know, there's one question we haven't considered."

Squinting in incomprehension, Miku's gaze wandered skyward. "What?"

"No, not what," I teased. Miku cast me an annoyed look, but I ignored it. "Why? Why is he in the window?" Truly it was a more pressing question that the others we'd asked. Honestly I was surprised that we hadn't considered it sooner. Miku opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it again, presumably because she lacked an adequate response. "See? We haven't thought of that, have we?"

"I… No, we haven't. Why is he there in the first place? Oh, that's… I don't know." Miku was looking more uncertain by the moment. "Is he, like, for sale?"

That was a horrifying thought. "I don't think so, I don't see a price tag. Besides, sentience for sale? That's genuinely disturbing." Miku nodded after a moment's pause, seemingly reluctant to concur but seeing the sense in what I was saying.

"Then why is he there?"

I didn't have an answer. I folded my arms, considering the possibilities. "Perhaps he's just on display? I mean, you can put a painting in an art gallery, but that doesn't mean it's for sale."

Miku nodded slowly. "I suppose…" She paused, staring forlornly at the immobile boy. "What do you think he's like?"

I stared at her blankly. "You can't tell somebody's personality from their appearance. Like the old saying goes, don't judge a book by its cover."

"But he's not a book." The reply made me twinge internally. That was possibly - probably - the single stupidest thing she'd ever said, and she had said some pretty dumb stuff in the time I'd known her.

I decided it was high time we move on. I had an arm to fix. "Miku, we haven't got all day." Miku glanced at me, a look of disappointment on her face in the brief moment I could see it directly. "He'll still be here when we get back."

"Are you sure?" The whining tone of her voice was grating. Her high-pitched voice was annoying when toned like that.

I took a deep breath before expelling a white cloud into the air. "I'm not precognitive. Either he'll be there or he won't. What does it matter?"

Miku made an annoyed grumble, giving me an icy glare. "He's a Vocaloid, of course it matters to me!" She snapped, waving her hands fervently.

"Okay, okay, calm down." I replied, not wanting to have this boil down to a childish squabble. "I just need to get my augment fixed okay? We can come back when I'm done."

Miku latched herself onto me, looping her arm around mine. "Okay, but if we don't, you're in trouble…"


	16. Escalation

I flexed each finger individually, seeing the matte-black tendons tighten and slacken with each movement. I snapped my thumb across the surface of my index finger. There was a metallic screech as a spark was launched across the table.

A crumpled piece of paper was aflame the instant the spark made contact. "Bollocks!" I cried, sweeping the fireball from the table on to the concrete floor to ensure the table did not ignite as well. I brought my foot down, trying to quell the flames. I stamped over and over until the burning sheet was extinguished. I took a deep, carbon-tainted breath and hacked it back out, practically gagging on the smoke.

Laughter erupted from behind me, making me wheel around on the spot. Miku had doubled over, unable to contain her amusement. I felt my face twitch in all sorts of directions, in a confused mixture of anger at being laughed at and agreement on the fact that my reaction had been over the top. "What are you laughing at?" I already knew the answer.

For a few seconds, Miku fought to contain her laughter. Her sapphire eyes were overflowing with tears, a sign of how amusing she'd found my reaction. She staggered backward, straightening up but almost falling over as she attempted to balance herself.

For a moment, Miku was teetering on the tips of her toes before she fell forward, her hands reaching out for something to arrest her fall.

I reached out and caught both of her hands. Her entire body was rigid, completely outstretched, hanging at a low angle. It looked very uncomfortable, and very amusing. Miku tried to angle her head to look at me, but couldn't manage it, her body's angle being far too shallow to allow her neck to extend so far. Her eyes glanced upwards nervously, staring uncertainly at the one thing preventing her fall. Me.

"Thank you?" Miku questioned, the uncertainty creeping into her voice.

A sly smile crept on to my face. I let go. Miku fell once more, but managed to catch herself, slowing her descent by putting her hands on the floor. "Doing push-ups, are we?"

"Ow." Miku complained, hauling herself to her feet. "That hurt."

I huffed, emptying my lungs into the stale air. "Oh, please. You don't know what pain is."

"It's… painful," Miku responded, shaking her hands vigorously.

"...aaand?" She would have to do better than that to convince me.

"And hurty." Miku was pouting now, her arms crossed in a defensive manner.

I sighed, shaking my head and looking away. "Lot of use you are."

"Ironic coming from the guy with one arm," I shot her a glare, and she simply smiled sweetly in return. Her facial expression could change awfully quickly. "Speaking of your arm, how is it?"

Glancing down at the appendage, I flexed my forearm up and tapped my shoulder. "As you can see, everything is working within acceptable parameters, and energy efficiency is at eighty-nine percent."

Miku's eyebrows rose, evidence of her surprise. "You can tell that just by looking at it?"

My facial expression changed to a frown. That kind of thought happened often, especially in the morning when I attached it. I had never really considered why the thoughts of parameters and efficiency struck when I put the arm on. "No. I think… I think the arm gives me some synaptic feedback."

The blank stare informed me of precisely how well Miku understood what I had said. "What?"

Exactly as I'd presumed. "The arm speaks to me."

Her surprise was once more plain for the world to see. "That's so cool!"

"No," I replied, letting the arm slacken. "It's really annoying. Every time I put on my augment, there's a little voice in my head. It's almost as annoying as the buzzing feeling of neural feedback…"

"You have to admit," Miku proclaimed, bounding over for a closer look. "It's a very impressive piece of technology."

I grunted in wordless reply, letting her look intently at the hundreds of steel fibres that made up the arm's 'muscles'. There was a small twang as she pulled on one of the fibres and let it go. "Hey, none of that." The vibrations buzzed up my arm into my shoulder, giving me an indistinct numbness in my collar bone.

"Sorry," Miku replied automatically, seemingly not actually listening to what I'd ordered. She was obviously far too engrossed in trying to work out how the arm worked to actually pay any semblance of attention to its owner.

To be honest, not even I knew how the arm worked, and I was the one it was attached to. To my understanding, it was a strong piston-driven endoskeleton - the pistons providing power - wreathed in bundles of tiny motors arranged into wires and protected by steel fibres. How they got motors that small I knew I'd never know.

My hand twitched as Miku's skirt brushed past the tip of my finger. Sometimes the tactile sense surprised me like that. All these years and I still didn't expect to be able to feel anything touch my hand.

A sound made my head shoot to the side. Footsteps were not uncommon, but something was… different. The footsteps were not haphazard or disorderly, no, each step was perfectly timed at an equal time interval to the prior.

Too perfect. Mechanical. Each step was precisely calculated. From the look on her face, Miku had noticed it too. "Something seems odd. Like something is…"

"Unnatural?" I asked, shifting uneasily. Miku nodded. I looked toward the garage door, expecting the figure to come into view any second now. They did, but immediately stopped. Cleanly, they pivoted on the spot, staring directly at us.

Her eyes were a gentle coral pink, but were cold and dead. Her salmon-red hair was hip length and some was sticking up from the middle of her head in an odd fashion. Her expression was a blank mask, like she was completely detached from reality. Her unconventional outfit was two-tone, composed of the colours navy-blue and pale pink. An oversize buckle on her belt proudly displayed A2 for all to see, whatever that meant.

Then her skin caught my eye. It wasn't skin. It was polished flesh-colour plastic of some sort, its smooth surface marred by tiny scratches and droplets of rain water. There we seams, too, hair-thin lines running down her arms and legs; and there were small spaces at her joints for ease of movement.

Whoever she was, she was clearly constructed of inorganic material. Combined with her almost-human appearance, I could rather safely come to a conclusion as to what she was. I glanced at Miku, then back at the intruder. "Android."

"Vocaloid," Miku corrected with a hiss. There was an emotion carrying in her voice that I had not expected. Fear.

"You think?"

Miku held my arm tightly, despite the way the steel fibres were probably painful on her skin. "I know."

I took a deep breath, still tasting the carbon in the air. "Who are you and what do you want?"

The Vocaloid started to walk towards us with the same brisk yet calculated pace, each step as regular as a heartbeat. A metre from me, she stopped instantly. "I am SF-A2 codename miki. I have come for Miku."

A wave of dread came over me, though whether it was from the tone or the statement itself I couldn't tell you. SF-A2 spoke in short, clipped sentences with barely any tone differentiation between her words. It was literally like speaking to a machine. How on Earth could she be a Vocaloid with a voice like a science-fiction robot from the 20th Century? "Are you sure it's… she's a Vocaloid?" Miku nodded, though it was barely perceptible, as though she was afraid to move. I cleared my throat, straightening my back so I would look a little more imposing, for what good it would do me. "Why do you want Miku?"

Once more, her voice was like some company's answering machine. "I have received an overriding directive that requires me to obtain CV series 01 unit 00001. I am required to return this Hatsune Miku to Yamaha."

That didn't sound good. I needed a valid excuse to keep her here - I simply couldn't let Miku go. "Where's your permit?"

Unexpectedly, SF-A2 cocked her head, unable to entirely comprehend what I had asked. "Permit? I do not require a permit. CV series 01 unit 00001 is company property. I am retaining company assets."

That was bulletproof. No way around it. Simple and pure logic, from a lifeless, sterile machine. I don't know what else I had expected, really. A mechanical answer from a mechanical being. Miku whimpered for some reason or other. "No." SF-A2's head cocked the other way this time, yet her expression remained locked in a state of analytical detachment. "You will not take her."

SF-A2 took a step forward. Was that a threat? It was hard to tell from the lack of expression. "What is preventing me from retaining company assets?"

I gulped. I was going to get in a whole heap of trouble for this. It would be so much easier if I just let Miku go… but if I did, all this would be for nought. I had to make something of my life. "I am. I'm stopping you from taking her."

My heart skipped a beat when SF-A2's eyelid twitched. "Are you an obstacle?"

I found myself unable to answer. "I… what?"

"Are you an obstacle?"

I glanced at Miku again. "I am."

"Querying directive fifty seven." SF-A2's eyes glazed over, as if listening to voices that nobody else could here. Directive 57? What could that mean? "Permission granted. Executing directive fifty seven - eliminate obstacle."

That couldn't be good. I heard Miku take a step back, letting go of my arm. Did she know what was coming?

SF-A2 brought up her right hand, taking off her glove as she did so. She simply dropped the glove as her porcelain (more literally than figuratively) hand pointed directly at my chest. There was a moment of silence as those hauntingly empty eyes stared me down. "You have one more chance to comply. Release Hatsune Miku."

Despite the way my heart felt like it was going to implode, I shook my head, a spark of defiance overriding all of my logic. The hell was I doing?

"Understood. Executing directive fifty seven - eliminate obstacle." Suddenly and with a series of sickening crunches, SF-A2's fingers folded backwards. Her hand split down the middle in a uniform line, the two halves pivoting aside, revealing a black void in their absence. Out of the shade came a gleaming, silver barrel. The barrel of a gun.

I flung myself to the ground as the anti-infantry autocannon roared.


	17. Shattered

"Yamaha apologizes for any stress, inconvenience, or damage of property," Droned SF-A2 blandly as she brought her weapon around to fire. "If you feel your rights have not been upheld, please contact customer services at 0800 -" The rest of the phone number was lost to the bark of the weapon, the muzzle flash lighting up the entire room for a brief instant. Each shot left a recursive ringing in my ears. I felt the bullet whip past my ear, causing me to flinch mid-stride without thinking. I stumbled, and with a terrible crack another shot screamed through the space my head had been a moment prior.

SF-A2, this armedrobotvocaloid... thing, was trying to kill me! She had a gun in her forearm! How was I supposed to stand up to that? It was only down to sheer dumb luck that I hadn't been eviscerated yet. It was unrelenting, a constant barrage of firepower, and the bloody android was just standing there like this was daily business! That autocannon was a frighteningly powerful weapon - each time it fired another portion of the wall disappeared into a cloud of vaporised concrete. And, if that was the damage it did to concrete, if it hit me…

It didn't bear thinking about. If a single one hit my chest, well, I wouldn't have much of a chest left to speak of. I didn't fancy a red cloud for a head, either, which is why I was running for dear life. There was a fiery buzz down my spine with the adrenaline coursing through my veins, and my heart was beating almost inhumanly fast.

The door I was running towards was abruptly replaced by a cloud of splinters. I clamped my eyes shut as shards of razor wood carved shallow but stinging gouges into my skin.

A bullet glanced the casing of my shoulder, barely even touching me but nevertheless striking me with enough force to punt me from my feet. I spun out, falling flat on my back. I saw a chunk of metal gouged out of my arm land beside me.

There was a dry 'whump' as a bullet tore through the air above me. I rolled aside, scrambling to my feet and slamming my back into the wall beside the door. Where was Miku? I swore vehemently when I realised that she was still inside the room. If I ran away, SF-A2 would take her. I couldn't let that happen. All would be for nought. Either I would have to get Miku out of there or… kill SF-A2, somehow.

But that meant I would have to go back in there and be shot at. Part of the wall opposite me instantly dusted as a bullet smashed into it. I shuddered at the sight.

A horrifying thought struck me. If Miku was hit by one of these…

I dashed back inside, jinking aside as SF-A2 snapped off a shot. I felt the air buffet me as the speeding bullet passed far too close for comfort. I coughed and spluttered as I got a lungful of rock dust.

The thump of the autocannon and the crunch of shots landing in concrete were almost deafening. "Miku!" I shouted, desperate to be heard over the chorus of miniature explosions, each shot a tiny Ragnarök in its own right. "Where are you?"

"Citizen, please remain still."

"Fuck off!" I stumbled as a chunk of wall struck my side, feeling a spike of pain in my ribs. Had something broken? I didn't have time to check. If I were to stop, I would be shredded on the spot. I felt something warm and damp leak onto my skin beneath my shirt. Undoubtedly, it was blood. This couldn't go on for much longer. Sooner or later, one of SF-A2's shots would land true and I would be pulped by the fifty calibre.

Out of seemingly nowhere, SF-A2 landed in front of me. When had she jumped? I didn't have enough time to stop or even slow down, she was too close.

The autocannon levelled with my stomach as I raced toward her. I may not have been a soldier, but even I knew that was no kill shot. That was a shot designed to stop me in my tracks. I was about to have my intestines turned red confetti. The horror sent another spike of adrenaline pumping into my body. I dropped to my knees and leaned away a moment before the gun fired.

There was a titanic crack, then nought but a terrible ringing. A terrible heat washed over my face, and then my face felt… well, wet. My left eye was awash with moisture, my vision dyed carmine. I felt liquid running from my nose, and from my left ear. It was only when I tasted liquid dripping from my palate that I knew what it was. Blood. I choked, coughing up spots of blood onto SF-A2, staining the pale pink into deep red. The shot hadn't needed to hit me - the pressure wave had been enough.

Then came the pain. It was as if a hundred needles had lanced into the side of my head, like some sort of twisted acupuncture procedure. There was an especially large one in my ear, like the stinger of some immense wasp.

I lashed out in desperation. My iron fist connected with SF-A2's left knee, and there was a tremendous crack like some sort of hellish whip. The jointed buckled inward, but SF-A2 still stood.

Unsteady, but still armed, SF-A2 fired her autocannon just as I scrambled aside. The bullet grazed my prosthetic, causing steel fibres to snap like elastic.

There was no time to care. I scrambled to my feet, pivoting around SF-A2 so that she could not bring her autocannon to bear. Desperately, I grabbed a tight hold of SF-A2's throat with my augment, scrabbling and scratching at her face with the other. I felt something pop before a solid elbow crashed into my ribs.

I stumbled back and cried out involuntarily as I felt something crack. Was that my rib? It was hard to concentrate through the pain and constant ringing in my ears. Despite her snapped knee, SF-A2 lumbered around, bringing her autocannon in for the shot that would kill me. I was going to have to stop this now. Another shiver of adrenaline shot down my spine.

Instantly, I leapt into action in the moment before she could fire. I swung my entire body back into a stupidly telegraphed punch, but SF-A2 put up no defence. My talonite knuckles thundered into her stomach, and carbon fibre skin snapped and caved inward like cardboard. I could just feel the inner layer of skin at her back with the tips of my fingers. I grabbed something vaguely cylindrical, and with a sickening sort of wet crunch tore it out.

SF-A2's eyes appeared to widen in shock as a portion of her synthetic spine was ripped out of place. Her torso slumped to the side abruptly, her inorganic flesh unable to support the weight of her upper body without vertebrae.

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I had been holding. It was over. Nobody could come back from that. In my view, a torn out spine generally put a person down for good. Not even an android could walk that off.

I dropped the cast iron spinal column and brought my hands up to my face, suddenly remembering the profuse bleeding I'd been experiencing. "Flrkl me, thith 'urts like a bith," I gurgled, unable to speak properly for the blood in my mouth.

The most terrifying sound I'd ever experienced met my ears - well, the one ear that was working, anyway. That sound was whining servo motors.

My eye that wasn't dyed red with my own blood observed SF-A2's right arm lifting to fire. "Ten rounds remaining."

"Ach, flrk mye!" I screamed through the blood, swinging a wild haymaker at SF-A2's face and turning to flee. I felt something splinter under my knuckles, the impact reverberating along my arm, but by that time I was facing the other way. With one final jolt of adrenaline in the face of almost certain death, I ran. I ran as fast as I could, then faster again. To stop was to die. To fall was to die. To slow was to die.

Something - I don't know what - made me foolishly glance over my shoulder. I would've emptied my bladder if its contents hadn't mysteriously vanished some time ago.

SF-A2 was somehow still standing on her buckled knee, though I suppose that in the end that was the least of her problems. The sheer torque of the jaw-punch I'd given her had torn her stomach wound wide open, her entire upper body bent at a severe angle, her head almost trailing on the floor. Two ragged stumps of spinal column were sticking out like snapped trees, and a sticky, almost porridge-like goop was slopping out of the wound like some twisted parody of a fountain. One of her eyes was hanging at her forehead, and her mouth was split into a horrific rictus grin, impossibly wide due to the way I'd snapped one of the jaw joints clean off. And yet, for all these injuries that would kill a man multiple times over, her autocannon was rising.

I had one final, primal burst of energy. I could hear sirens! Help had arrived! I was saved! I-

The last thing I remember was an explosion of pain in my leg.


	18. Dawn

A sickeningly strong sense of déjà vu washed over me as I opened the one eye that seemed to be able to follow the orders of my jarred nerves. A white, plastic tiled ceiling slowly came into focus. I didn’t have to see anything else to know exactly where I was. Hospital.

I could hear my heart-rate monitor - a steady pulse, so that was a good sign. The weird thing was that I could only hear it in my right ear. In fact, I couldn’t hear anything in my left ear at all. Not the heart rate, not the background murmur, not the footsteps, nothing.

I felt my jaw tremble as I realised that I had been deafened. Lost all ability to perceive sound with my left ear. I know that there were implants that enabled me to regain my hearing, but… still. Going deaf was no minor thing, but I suppose it kind of paled in comparison to my missing arm. The augment was somewhere else, apparently.

My breath caught in my throat as I remembered the bark of SF-A2’s autocannon. I couldn’t remember much else. I suppose that’s what deafened me in the first place, the autocannon firing just to the left of my face. What about my left eye, though? Something was keeping the eye clamped shut, and it didn’t feel like cauterised skin, so whatever it was it must have been there for a good reason.

“Muh… Miku?” I slurred, still suffering from the after effects of regaining consciousness. “Are you there?” No answer. I coughed, finally noticing the dryness of my throat. Tiny dark red flecks appeared on my chest. I sat up, squinting at my slightly blurry surroundings. I tried to speak, but merely spluttered and coughed again.

The curtain was whisked aside as a nurse took notice of my plight. I found a glass of water being handed to me. Gladly, I gulped it down, the water washing away a measure of the dried blood caking the inside of my throat. I took a deep breath, tasting the chemical tang of the air, and when I emptied my lungs again it tasted of nothing but iron. “Thank you.”

It was hard to ascertain the dimensions of the nurse - how tall and far away she was - due to my sudden lack of depth perception, which I owed to having only one eye working. It was rather unnerving to say the least. “Yeah really had the doctors going, you know. It was touch-and-go for quite a while.”

Where was Miku? Something told me that Yamaha didn’t have her, so obviously the fight with SF-A2 was somewhat of a success. “How so?” Had I died and been resuscitated, or something?  
“Your heart stopped.” Nailed it. “Three times.” Didn’t see that coming, though. I laughed in spite of my situation. “What’s so funny?”

Oh, she had no idea. “Most people only get to die one, maybe two times in their life. I’ve died five times and I’m still going,” I chuckled despite the way there was a jolt of pain in my ribs with each laugh. Seemed like I had a broken rib; lovely. “I’m not sure if I’m the luckiest guy around for having six chances, or the unluckiest for having died five times, lost an arm and gone deaf in one ear.”

The nurse looked unsure. My question had been rhetorical, so she’d better not - “I’d say unlucky. I mean, you’re losing limbs here…” God damn it.

“Limbs?” As in, the plural? I looked down and counted. Left arm, left leg, right leg. Three out of three. “I… I’ve only lost one. What’s with the pluralisation?”

She shook her head. Was she hiding something? If I’d had both eyes, I would probably have been able to read her face. “Nevermind.”

I glanced at the blunt metal stump of my right shoulder. “Speaking of rogue limbs; where is my arm?”

“It’s being repaired. We had to outsource it, we didn’t have the right facilities to fix it here.”

So, my arm wasn’t even in the same building as me. Fantastic. “I thought you had a Cybernetics ward?”

“Yeah, but…” The nurse shook her head. “It’s more specialising in implants, not really anything larger than a fist.”

I sighed, trying to ignore the buzzing pain of my cracked rib. It may have been set, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. “Where’s Miku?”

“The blue-green haired girl who was with you?” I nodded in reply, eager to know whether or not she was okay. “She’s in the waiting room.” A look of suspicion crawled onto her face. What kinds of presumptions was she drawing for her to make that face? “Is she your girlfriend?” 

I felt a twinge of aggravation. Why did everyone think that? It was infuriating. “No. I’m just looking after her.”

“Do you want me to go get her? Your sister is here too, I think.”

Obviously. Christ, how dull could you get? “Yes, please.”

The nurse paused as she was about to leave. The look of suspicion returned. Another presumption. “Is… Is she your daughter?”

I felt the confusion show itself on my face; I was unable to stem it. “...No.” My tone was somewhere between surprise, incredulity and ‘what the fuck’. I could sort of see the sense in what she was saying, but… what the fuck? I opened my mouth to add something, but I was only able to make sort of a strangled gargle of confusion.

And then the nurse was gone, leaving me in a perplexed haze. “Wha… aaat?” Daughter? If she was sixteen, and I was twenty one, and she was my daughter… Ew. That was… I couldn’t find any word to describe it other than, well, ew. Just ew. How on Earth did she come to that conclusion? Perhaps she didn’t mean biological daughter, perhaps she just thought I’d adopted her… Still, I certainly didn’t remember looking that old, or remember Miku looking that young, so… what the hell?

Running. I heard running, and it was fast approaching. It didn’t take a genius to know who it was. I was barely aware of a teal blur racing toward me before its two spindly arms squeezed the air from my lungs. I wheezed, and could have sworn that I could see tiny flecks of dried blood spray from my mouth. As for the cracked rib, let’s just it hurt. A lot.

“Miku,” I spluttered, trying (and failing) to get some air into my lungs. “Are you trying to suffocate me?”

Reluctantly, she did as she was told. Her brow was furrowed, creased with worry, and the skin around her eyes had flushed red. Had she been crying? “I’ve been so worried. Are you okay?”

I nodded. Was it just me, or did she look a little taller? Wait, no, smaller. No, er… I was really missing depth perception now. “I’ll live. How long was I unconscious for?”

Miku paused, glancing at the wall. Had it been that long? “Twenty six hours, forty three minutes.”

I sat abruptly. “Twenty six hours?!” That was a long time, all things considered. I mean, I hadn't lost any limbs, so what gives? Another question struck me, and for a moment I was unable to decide which was more pressing. “Where have you been staying?”

My heart jumped in shock when another voice spoke. “With me.”

How had I failed to notice my sister’s presence before now? “Where did you come from?” Had she been standing there all along ,or had she only just gotten here?  
“Same place as you,” Elizabeth answered with a grin, “From our mother’s -”

“Not what I meant,” I interrupted. We didn’t need the conversation turning to that. “I… Nevermind.”

Elizabeth chuckled darkly, then her expression turned deadly serious. “How is your leg?”

“My leg?” What on Earth was she talking about? My three remaining limbs were still intact, right? A horrible, crawling pang of suspicion crept up on me limb some kind of psychological spider.

Miku’s eyes widened. “You haven’t been told?”

Oh no. I took another look at my legs. My left was fine, but my right… The knee was gone, as was everything below it. Half of my leg was missing, the stump neatly rounded off like the lower half had never even existed. I could also see a metallic rim, the edge of what was likely the port of a new prosthetic. “Oh, bollocks. My leg.”

My sister gave me an incredulous stare. “That’s your reaction? ‘Oh, bollocks?’ What’s wrong with you?”

I stared back at her. “Well, you know. You remember my reaction when I lost my arm? Shock, screaming, crying, that sort of business. Well, when you’ve lost one, you’re kind of inured to the loss of another. I mean, what’s half a leg compared to an entire arm?”

Miku nodded fervently. “I get it.” Elizabeth stared at her blankly.

I brought my hand to my face, curious as to what it was keeping my eye clamped shut. My fingertips touched fabric, of all things. “What’s this on my eye? Is it an eyepatch or did some asshole glue their pants to my face?”

“Medical gauze,” Answered an unknown voice to my left. Three heads - mine included - darted its way. As it turned out, it was a doctor. That shouldn't have surprised me. “You’re not going to be able to use that eye for a few days.” 

“Doctor,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Why did these hospital beds always have to be several magnitudes softer than needed? "I didn't hear you coming,”

He waved his hand rather idly. “I’m not surprised. I’m sure by now you’ve realised that you have been deafened in your left ear?”

“Yeah, I was about to ask about that…”

“We’ve already installed a new cochlea implant. We’ll turn it on shortly.”

My hand immediately shot up to my ear. Sure enough, the tips of my fingers brushed past little steel nodules stuck in the skin around my ear. “I’ll have my hearing back?”

“Yes.”

“And I can take off the gauze in a day or two?”

“Yes.”

Things were looking good, all things considered. “What about my leg?”

“Ah, yes,” The doctor began, visibly straightening up. “It said on your record that you would prefer prosthesis over a biological replacement, correct?” I nodded. If it was on the record, why did he need to ask? “Good. A new prosthetic should arrive for you shortly.”

Shortly this, shortly that. Shortly was an uncertain period, a grey area. Why was he using that word? “How long is shortly?”

“An hour or so for the prosthetic, perhaps a few minutes for the cochlea implant.” A few minutes of half-deafness was bearable, at least. As for the leg; I’d gone for longer than that without an arm. “You’re very lucky to be alive. You know that, right?”

I nodded. “Aye. Five times dead, five times brought back. Lucky, lucky me.”

A look of distinct shock lit up Miku’s face. “Five times?!”

Did that surprise her? I was tougher than that, she knew that. I obviously had luck on my side. Lady Luck herself had apparently taken a shine to me. “Yeah, five times.”

The shock was replaced with confusion. A sort of strangled groan of bewilderment escaped her. “That doesn’t concern you?”

“Oh, come on,” I responded, feeling my mouth split open into a wide grin. Ouch. It hurt to smile. Too many cuts on my face, too many scabs and scars. I had no doubt I looked a few years older for my wounds. “John Moody is tougher than that.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You’re Goddamn right you’re tougher than that.” She put an arm around Miku’s shoulder. “You see, my brother is one of those kinds of people who has iron in his bones,” I saw her glance at the metallic stump of my shoulder. “More literally than figuratively.”

Miku started to say something but spluttered abruptly, whatever she was about to say lost to peals of hilarity as she got the joke a moment after she was supposed to. Despite the pain, I smiled again. It was good to see her laugh after such a serious incident.

Out of the blue, a question winked into being in my mind. “What happened to SF-A2?”

“I pushed her over.”

She pushed her over. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “You pushed her over?”

Miku’s nodding was as vigorous as ever. “She was about to shoot you in the back, so I pushed her over.” Her tone was so plain and the statement so straightforward that there was no way she could be lying. It was the ridiculousness of the notion that befuddled me.

“You pushed her over.”

“So instead of the bullet hitting your chest, it hit your leg.”

Then it hit me. A sudden, almost titanic realisation. If I hadn’t already been seated, I’m sure I would have sat down at that point. The constant rhythmic beeping of the heart rate monitor had increased in pace. “You… You saved my life.”

Miku took a step back. “Oh, my God, I did.”

“Miku… You saved my life.” She just nodded in reply, tears welling in her eyes at the importance of her on-the-spot action. In the heat of the moment, she had acted and saved my life. Nevermind the fact that half my leg was gone, if it weren’t for her actions half of my chest would be gone, and that wouldn’t be a wound I was going to bounce back from. “I owe you my life. I’d walk over and hug you on the spot, but, you know. One arm, one and a half legs. Not really doable.” In the end, I suppose I was proud of her. She’d broken under stress, and somehow rallied just when I needed her. Miku had faced the most terrifying thing both of us had ever faced, and she had beaten it. Thanks to Miku, I had cheated death. Without warning, Miku had just become the single most important person in my entire life.

“Oh, you two…” Elizabeth sighed, probably feeling like a third wheel by this point.

“What?” Replied both Miku and I simultaneously, in completely different tones.

My sister sighed again. What was up with her? “Nothing.”

I shook my head, disregarding her reactions. My head fell back onto the pillow with a soft ‘whump’ of displaced air and fabric. “God, I want to go home.”

“Me too,” Agreed Miku, barely audible.

“Yes, well,” Interjected Elizabeth in a rather strict maternal tone. “You’re going to have to wait for your cybernetics.”

I grunted in dissatisfaction. “Yes, mum,” My comically sarcastic tone made Miku burst into peals of giggles. I liked hearing that sound. “Now, doc, how long until -” I noticed too late that the doctor had already left. I sighed. “God damn it.”


	19. Kindred

I yawned as I twisted the lower half of my right leg into place, hearing a resounding click as the augment snapped into place, followed by a dull whirr of calibrating servomotors. I flexed the stubby, three-toed claw that counted as my new foot, ignoring the foreign thoughts of efficiency and parameters that popped into my head without invite. I brought a hand up to my ear, my fingertips brushing past tiny pinhead-sized nodules of steel, before pressing a tiny button hidden below my left earlobe. I flinched as a bark of static assaulted my senses, and abruptly I could hear with both ears again.

At this rate, by the end of next year I wouldn't have any flesh left at all, just iron, plastic and circuits, and the odd servomotor here and there.

Shakily, I clambered to my feet, limping ungainly toward the bedroom door. It was rather difficult to advance on the new leg, but I nevertheless was managing to stalk over to the door without falling flat onto my stomach. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. I was getting used to the fresh appendage far quicker than anticipated. I didn't even have to use crutches!

It took me a good few moments longer than usual to hobble into the bedroom and flick the tiny switch by Miku's ear - oddly enough in the same place as the switch on my cochlea implant. Coincidences were weird like that.

Miku's eyelids flickered briefly before opening completely. I had barely backed away before she sat up with speed that belied her appearance. It never ceased to surprise me how quickly she could move, and I was quickly reminded of her strength when I glanced at the dent my back had once made in the wall. "Good morning!" Miku chimed, as wide awake as ever. I honestly quite envied the fact she didn't need to sleep. If I didn't need to sleep, I'd have so much more time to do all the stuff I needed to do. That said, I didn't have much stuff to do in the first place, so perhaps it was for the best that I wasn't immune to fatigue as Miku was.

I stumbled back a step as my eyes glanced downward from her face. "You're naked."

Miku gave me a blank look. Did she really not care, or was something else going on here? "And?"

"In my bed."

She made a childish sort of growling noise. "Well, you're not sleeping here. What do you care?"

Her logic was infallible. That was one of the strange aspects of Miku - no matter how childish she could act, in the end she was a machine, and the logic of a machine was always infallible. "I… don't?"

Miku clapped, though whether it was sarcasm or actual approval I couldn't tell you. "Correct answer." There was a brief pause where she shifted uncomfortably. "You're staring."

"Oh, bollocks, I am," I agreed, pulling my eyes away. That was embarrassing. I had been staring. In truth, it wasn't really in appreciation or awe, but really just the shock of her randomly being naked. In my bed. I hadn't been in the bed at the time, granted, but still. "Sorry, I was… uh… not… I mean, I was… Bollocks."

Miku let out a short giggle. Oh, so my embarrassment tickled her, did it? "It's okay. You see a naked person, you stare. Natural response." I nodded, scratching my head awkwardly and keeping my vision fixed firmly to the wall. "You're still here?"

It kept happening! I let out a chain of profanity under my breath as I left the room. Miku really knew how to put me at the end of my tether. I closed the door behind me and leaned backwards on it, taking it deep breath to settle my heartbeat. I wasn't attracted to her, that much I knew. I was just a little shaken.

Miku said something, but I didn't quite catch it through the muffling effect of the door and the fact I hadn't been paying attention. Had she just been singing, or had she actually said something to me. Well, only one way to find out… "Come again?"

She cleared her throat. "Am I hot?"

The breath I had been slowly letting out suddenly erupted from my chest in a choked cough. "Wh - what?" Had I heard her right? I didn't think I had.

With the speed of an arrow in flight, the door opened behind me. Unbalanced, I fell back and my head smacked into the laminated synthwood floor with all the noise of a thunderclap. Electric sparks arced through from the back of my head to my front, a jolt of unanticipated pain. I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to clear my eyes of stars. And when I opened them…

Miku was standing with her feet either side of my head. Luckily, she had gotten on underwear in that short period I had been out of the room, but nevertheless I was getting an unprecedented view directly up at her crotch. I wasn't sure whether I liked it or not. I believe it was the latter. She cocked her head questioningly, apparently as immune to embarrassment as she was to sleepiness. "Am I hot?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. The hell was I supposed to say in this situation? I had no experience at this kind of… this kind of bullshit! What the hell was happening right now? I was a mechanic, not a womaniser, not a dating specialist, not a decider of what's hot and what's not! On the spur of the moment, something blurted out of my mouth before I could think. "You're very clean."

Miku stepped back, a look of confusion on her face. For that, I was glad. "What?"

"Like… very clean. Your skin is… like… ivory." It was true, there was not a speck of dirt marring the skin of her legs, or any of the other skin I had the unfortunate privilege of seeing. I sat up, trying to rub the pain out of the back of my skull, and it wasn't working.

"Uh, whatever. Answer my question."

I sighed. Miku could be awfully pushy sometimes. I dragged myself to my feet, straightening my back to my grand height of 1.8 metres, a whole head and a half taller than Miku was. She took a step back as I turned to face her, though if it was out of fear, awe or ease of conversation I was unable to tell. I took a deep breath, and stared her directly in the eyes. Sapphire blue met slate grey as I carefully weighed my answer, before deciding that if ever there was a correct time to be as blunt as a hammer, now was that time. "Miku," I began, sweeping my arms up to gesture to her body. "No offence, but you're built like a twig. You look as if I could snap you over my knee as easy as I would break a thin plank of synthwood. Understand so far?"

Miku was listening tentatively, and did not seem to be offended in the slightest by my blunt choice of words or my unorthodox usage of metaphor. "Go on."

I nodded, letting my words sink in for a brief moment before continuing. "If you were older - eighteen or nineteen instead of sixteen - and taller… And curvier… I'd probably say yes."

"But?"

"But seeing as you're not, I'm going to have to say no." I turned away, limping out of the room once more. I waved my hand dismissively. "I'll admit one thing though."

"What thing?"

"You're kinda cute." I closed the door behind me, grinning silently. Hopefully that would shut her up for a while. I could hear her incessant giggles through the closed door. We weren't quite friends. Not quite.

But, if not friends, what were we? We weren't romantically involved, that was for sure. Neither of us was interested in a serious relationship like that anyway - or, at least, I knew I wasn't, and I had very little doubt as to whether or not Miku was ready for something along those lines.

Nevertheless, we were closer than friends. What did that make us? I considered the question carefully as I fetched my immunosuppressants and antibiotics from the cupboard with one hand, grabbing a glass with my other. That was one of the benefits of having a mechanical arm, multitasking was so much easier for some reason.

I stared idly through the window as I turned the faucet and water poured into my glass. Closer than friends, but not in love. Did that make us family? I swallowed the tablets with a swig of water as I proposed the idea to myself.

Strictly speaking, the definition of family was two parents and their children all living within the same household as a singular unit. There were not two parents here, and certainly no children (that is, to say, I did not really count Miku as a child).

I downed the rest of the glass and left it by the sink and returned to the living room. Miku was sitting on the couch with an almost imperceptible smile on her face, looking like some kind of new-age Mona Lisa. I sat down beside her.

"You know, Miku," I began, twiddling my thumbs. I stared as flesh and keratin orbited around steel and tungsten. "A friend of mine once told me that family is not dictated by flesh and blood." A wry smile crept across my face, far wider than Miku's. "He told me that your family is who you choose, and who chooses you. I think he was right in every way, shape and form."

"So, we're family?" Said Miku placidly, leaning over and placing her head on my chest.

That was an unanticipated move. Did she want something? Was this some kind of bribe or hint? I nodded. "We're family."

"So," Miku continued, squirming to get a little more comfortable. "Are you my brother or my father?"

I snorted. "I've no god damn idea."


	20. Visitation

My eyes abruptly flickered open, and immediately I was aware of the weight on my chest. Miku's head. Had I fallen asleep? Had she really just kept on lying on me? I glanced up at the clock. It had been two hours since I had woken Miku up, and that told me yes - I had fallen asleep again. The weight of Miku's head on my chest was strangely reassuring. "Miku?" I asked groggily.

"Yeah?"

"Are we even going to do anything today?"

Miku shrugged rather idly, her shoulder digging into my side slightly. "We haven't planned anything. Beside, you need your rest. Losing limbs takes a lot out of you."

Pun aside, she was right, I suppose. My body needed time to adapt to its new prosthetics. I didn't want to overextend myself, especially in the aftermath of such a catastrophic injury. I didn't need to break something the day after coming back from hospital.

Nevertheless, I had made a promise that I was intending to keep. Somehow or other, I was going to unravel Miku's history. Why, how, and when. I was going to uncover every last scrap until I could have her the complete picture.

And after that? I hadn't thought that far ahead, actually. All I did know was that I'd be seeing more of her after that. She was going to stick around, that much was certain.

I sighed, thinking about the events that had led up to the messy removal of my lower leg. "Hey, Miku, what happened to SF-A2?"

"I pushed her over."

The entirely wrong answer. "What about after that?"

"She exploded."

There was a brief lull in the conversation. "She exploded?"

"Just after the armed police arrived."

There was another brief lull as I tried to take that information onboard. "Armed police?"

Miku rolled over so that she could see my face whilst still keeping her heavy head firmly locked on my sternum. "Miki was shooting at you."

Oh, well, I suppose at least that made sense, but… "She exploded?"

She nodded in her fervent way, and swept a stray lock of teal hair from her brow where it had been blocking her view of me. "It's all a bit of a blur, but I distinctly remember Miki's chest exploding." She swept her right hand around in a circle. "Boom. There was stuff everywhere. The explosion was like an orange and black cloud."

The mental image was frighteningly clear, SF-A2's carbon fibre-laced chest detonating and spraying outward in a shower of molten metal and mechanical viscera, leaving nothing but the scorched ends of limbs. The rest of SF-A2's ammunition - if she hadn't fired it all - would have cooked off with a serious of thunder cracks, blowing her right arm to pieces, leaving a gently smouldering and partially melted autocannon barrel, and perhaps a finger or two. It wasn't exactly the most pleasing mental image. The mess must have been horrendous. "How did my workshop fare?"

"Some chunks were taken out of the floor and walls, nothing major." Miku's lips split into a wide grin. "You're going to need a new back door, though."

I coughed out a choked laugh, ignoring the lance of pain in my side. Evidently, my ribs hadn't healed yet, which didn't surprise me. It would take more than a day for a broken rib to repair itself. "Come on, doors are expensive. I'm not made of money, girl."

Miku patted the smooth casing of my prosthetic shoulder, the tungsten having been repaired. "I'll think that you'll find that you are, actually."

Her logic was as infallible as ever. It could indeed be said that my prosthesis was worth some amount of money, and they were a part of me, therefore under very direct logic I was at least partially made of money. The passing thought was an amusing one to be sure. "I suppose you're right."

"I'm always right," Muttered Miku nonchalantly. "It's my weakness."

"No, no," I replied, shifting in my seat slightly. How long was Miku planning to keep me pinned down? We couldn't lie here forever. "It's your hubris that is your weakness."

"Whatever," Miku replied, rolling over again. She took a hold of the almost bird-like claw that acted as my new right foot, and I felt the tiniest shiver of tactile feedback as her hand grasped at a stubby, conical toe.

"Miku, the hell are you doing with my foot?"

"It looks weird. Looks birdlike." I tried to shake her hand off, but she barely even moved. Her hand on my mechanical toe was barely even perceptible, but was nevertheless somewhat uncomfortable. "I should start calling you Bird-foot Moody."

Sounded awfully like some comically ugly character from a child's novel. I tried shaking her off again, more forcefully this time. "That feels weird; get off." Miku groaned in frustration and rolled off of me, landing with a thump on the laminated synthwood floor. I cringed at the noise of the impact. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, staring up at the ceiling placidly, her teal hair splayed out underneath her. "I'm fine."

There was an inconspicuous hiss as I leaned forward, placing weight on my synthetic leg. I stroked my stubble-ridden chin with my prosthetic arm, looking at her carefully. "You seem bored."

Miku nodded again, folding her arms but staying on the floor. "I am bored."

With a sigh, I sank back into my seat. "Well, what are you going to do about that?"

For a moment, there was no answer. "I dunno."

I grunted in wordless retort. That was just what I had been expecting. It reminded me of just how childish she could be. A memory popped into my head, a recent one, one of Miku blowing a raspberry at my brother. I briefly reflected on what Zachary could be doing right now, and snorted in distaste when I realised he was probably lounging around in bed with a hangover the approximate size of Jupiter. And to think, if I hadn't met Miku, I'd be in the exact same state. The thought disgusted me, the mere concept that I could've ended up in such a constant drunken stupor an abhorrent notion. I shook my brother from my mind; I had much more pressing subjects to consider.

"So," I began, offering Miku a had to drag herself to her feet, which she gladly took. She didn't ascend entirely though, preferring instead to kneel on the floor. "What are we going to look at in terms of Yamaha? Products? Facilities? Employees?"

Miku shrugged, obviously not having thought that far ahead yet. "I dunno."

"If you don't plan ahead, you're not going to get anywhere."

Miku groaned again. It was an incredibly infantile - and incredibly aggravating - noise. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could begin Miku was halted by a knock at the door. "There's somebody at the door."

Captain Obvious had struck again, it seemed. "I noticed." Who on Earth could it be?

Miku put voice to my thoughts. "Who do you think it is?"

I rose unsteadily to my feet, swaying almost drunkenly as I put weight onto my metallic leg. "Only one way to find out."

Miku rose too, trying to steady me. It was a sweet, but ultimately futile, gesture - if I were to fall, there was no possible way she could arrest my momentum without breaking me. "I mean, it could be your mother, your sister... Your brother… A traveling salesman…"

I snorted. "I don't think a traveling salesman would clamber up that godforsaken flight of stairs to have me slam the door in his face."

"Nevertheless," Miku continued, trying in vain to support me. "One must always be prepared for unforeseen circumstances - you of all people should be familiar with that."

I paused, turning to look at her with one eyebrow raised. "Where did this sudden eloquence come from?"

Miku cocked her head quizzically. "Sudden what?"

"Nevermind." I shook my head as the door was hammered again. "I'll be right with you!"

Muttering a profanity under my breath at the impatience of the visitor trying to put their fist through my door, I stumbled and staggered over toward it, grabbing my keys as I passed. With a dull click, the lock came undone and I opened the door.

"Good morning brother!" Announced my sister cheerfully, standing at the door. She pulled me into a tight embrace, as if trying to empty my lungs.

"Hi, Elizabeth," I wheezed, trying to wriggle some oxygen into my chest. Abruptly, she let go again. I stepped aside, allowing my sister to pass as I regained my breath.

My sister was immediately beset upon by my other guest; the blue haired one. Miku certainly seemed… excited that Elizabeth was here. She was practically ecstatic, and Elizabeth looked happy to see Miku too, despite the eleven-year age gap between them. There was a kind of unspoken pre-affirmed camaraderie between the two girls, the kind of which I'd not seen since I was a child. In an odd way it was rather refreshing.

Elizabeth spread her arms. "Don't tell me; you want a hug too?"

Miku burst out laughing, gladly accepting - and reciprocating - the embrace. I scratched the back of my head awkwardly. Could they, like, maybe not do that? Like, ever again? "So, uh, Liz, what brings you here?"

"Oh, I was just checking up on you." Elizabeth answered over Miku's shoulder. "How is the bird leg treating you?"

I felt my brow crease. "It's fine." Did everybody think it was birdlike? If so, I wanted a new one. I didn't want to be called birdfoot for the rest of my life. Being called John - or even Moody - was fine to me.

Moments later, we were all sat side-by-side on the couch, with Elizabeth in the middle. An odd question struck me suddenly, as per usual. "Liz, where's your daughter?"

"She's with my other half."

I nodded, understanding the decades-old euphemism, but Miku cocked her head in confusion. "What? Other half?"

Elizabeth cast Miku a wary side glance. Perhaps it had finally dawned on her how naïve, how oblivious Miku was to many of the things around her. "My husband."

Miku nodded slowly. "You are… what's the word?"

"Married?"

"You're married. I… oh… I forgot about marriage."

This time Elizabeth's wary side glance was cast toward me. I nodded in agreement, knowing exactly what she was thinking. Besides that, I thought it about time to tear down the façade. "Okay, Elizabeth, drop the act. What are you doing here?"

"I want to know." Elizabeth answered, her stare hard and fixed but not cold. "I want to know how, why, when, where."

"About what?"

"About Miku."

I leaned back in my seat, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Well, well, well… Where do I begin?"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Miku smile. "I believe you begin in the tavern."


	21. Veracity

"So," Elizabeth began, her befuddlement showing on her face. "Let me get this straight…" She paused, evidently trying her hardest to remember the entirety of my explanation. "You met her outside of a tavern where you saved her from a sexual assault and let her come with you to stay the night in your apartment. You let her sleep in the bed - _your bed_ \- whilst you slept on the couch. The morning after, you took an interest in her, then went to the hospital, then set off on a quest to learn about her mysteriously absent past, then went to our father's funeral, then started questing again…" Once more Elizabeth paused, trying so hard to remember the last part of the story that I mused her head might burst with effort. "Then you were attacked by an android called SF-A2 codename Miki who had an autocannon in her arm, wherein you got your leg blown apart and Miki exploded."

I nodded. It was a fairly unbelievable story, but it was all true. "Pretty much."

Elizabeth cradled her head in her hands, trying to absorb the wealth of information I'd given her. "What has your life become?"

I tried my best to answer eloquently, but only one term came to mind. "A fuckfest of bullshit."

Both Elizabeth and Miku burst into peals of laughter, their voices mingling in an oddly choral manner. Despite my best efforts to remain true to my surname, I found myself smiling. The laughter of these two was infectious, and by God was I catching the chuckle bug. I fought the urge to laugh alongside them with troubling difficulty.

My sister shook her head as the laughter died down. "That's an amazing story, John. It would make a good book."

"You don't say…" I answered quietly. "Maybe I'll write it in my memoirs." In hindsight, I suppose I'd never said anything truer. I've said truer things since, of course, but that is a story for another time.

Elizabeth snorted. "I didn't think you were the writing type."

It was true; I wasn't the writing type at all. "Yeah, but, maybe when I'm older I'll think differently, you know?"

It was only now that I noticed Miku's puzzled expression. "What's a memoirs?"

"A biography written from personal knowledge." I answered with barely a thought. "Essentially, a self-written story of my life."

"Will I be in it?" Miku asked innocently, cocking her head questioningly.

I grinned. "Well, you're a pretty big part of my life now, so yes. You'll be in it, Miku." Appeased, the girl smiled brightly.

A sly smirk crept onto Elizabeth's face. "Will I be in it?"

I gave her a blank look, knowing full well that she was merely taking the piss. I failed to resist the urge to bite back. "No, Liz, I'm going to remove you from history. You do not exist, and never have existed. You will be playing no part in my memoirs, you will not even be hinted at."

My elder sibling and I glared at one another for a fleeting moment before we both abruptly spluttered into fits of giggles. "You are an _ass_." Elizabeth hammered in between chuckles and snorts, rocking back and forth slightly. Miku looked, as per usual, quite confused.

I found it much easier to suppress my laughter than she did, something I had always been better at doing that her. "They don't call me Moody for no reason."

After she had finally managed to quell the incessant stream of giggles that had been erupting from her, she turned toward Miku. "I had _no_ idea your story was so… interesting. I thought you were just another run-of-the-mill android, but, no. You're something else entirely."

For what seemed like the millionth time ever, Miku cocked her head curiously. "I'm something else entirely? Then, what is that thing?"

Elizabeth patted her on the back, making Miku twitch almost imperceptibly. Elizabeth failed to notice. "You're a person. You're no robot, you're a bonafide human being to me."

"And to me," I concurred, in full agreement of what Elizabeth was saying. Miku was no robot, she was a human being, a person full of emotion and wonder and…

Flaws. Full of flaws and mistakes - but these only served to enforce her humanity. After all, as the old saying goes, 'to err is human'. I smiled dreamily as one of my father's old jokes popped into my head. 'To err is human, to umm is stupid.'

Miku saw me smiling, and frowned in what was presumably bemusement. "What?" I shook my head in silent reply, knowing that she wouldn't get the joke.

"Just a fond memory, nothing more." I said after a moment of reticence, realising that a mere shake of the head was not enough of an answer for somebody like Miku. You had to make it black-and-white for her, otherwise she simply didn't understand. Once more I was reminded of her immaturity.

Elizabeth nudged me with her elbow. "Hey, what are you going to do now? It could be dangerous, there could be more killer androids out there." I saw her cast a surreptitious side glance toward Miku, almost in anticipation. Was that a flash of fear in her eyes?

I grunted. "You're a lot of comfort, aren't you? Well, whatever." I dismissed the statement with a casual gesture. "I'm going to continue to help Miku look for her missing past."

"Why?"

Sure of myself, I opened my mouth to reply but no sound came forth, like my vocal chords had been cut from my throat. I gulped, trying to think of an appropriate answer. The question was a simple one, and yet I hadn't actually considered it. "Because… Because I promised her."

"You promised her?" Elizabeth questioned with a raised eyebrow. I nodded in confirmation. "And what's keeping you from breaking that promise?"

Once more, my mouth opened and my vocal chords did not respond to my commands. What was keeping me from breaking my promise? I couldn't think of anything. My mind was void of an answer. "I… don't know."

Miku seemed to be considering the question too. "I don't think there _is_ anything."

I nodded in agreement. I seemed to be doing a lot of nodding as of late - at this rate I was going to get a crick in my neck. "Nothing solid, anyway."

The android cocked her head quizzically. Was it something I had said? "So, there is _something_?"

I sat there in silence for a minute or so, straining to find an adequate answer. Miku was right - there was _something_ keeping me from breaking that promise, but what that _something_ was on the other hand… I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It was on the tip of my tongue, I knew I was a split second away from coming up with the correct answer, but it simply wasn't coming to me. "Damn it," I muttered under my breath, frustrated with myself for unable to remember the words. It was pathetic - the words I was looking for were basic words I learned as a child and used practically every day, but now as an adult I found myself unable to recall them. Eventually I decided on using some alternate terms. "Elizabeth, you feel responsible for Mary, right?"

Frowning in incomprehension, my sister nodded slowly. "My little girl means the world to me, yes. I wouldn't let her ever come to harm."

Miku looked on impassively, listening carefully. I knew that I would have to tread carefully. "I basically feel the same way about Miku."

Elizabeth's frown grew more severe. "You love her?"

"No," I said sharply. Miku's brow creased almost imperceptibly - I seemed hadn't trodden carefully enough. Hopefully that would not be my downfall in this situation. "I mean, I feel responsible for her."

My sister's expression didn't change, not by a single iota. "You _love_ her?"

The palm of my hand connected with my forehead. "Not what I said. She's a friend, okay?"

Had Elizabeth's face turned to stone or something? "You can say that you love you friends as well, you know. Like, 'I love you, man.' There's different kinds of love. For instance, I love you, but as a brother."

She had a point there. Love wasn't necessarily a deep interpersonal relationship. People love pets, food, clothing… I inclined my head in agreement. "I get what you mean."

Her expression had finally changed, and now there was an expectant look painting Elizabeth's face into an image of impatience. "So?"

" _So_ , what?" I responded half-heartedly, unsure of what exactly it was that she wanted me to say. Miku seemed as unsure as I was, her sapphire eyes cast down to the floor in thought. It was now that I noticed that her hair was tumbling all the way onto the floor, neatly tapered ends just barely touching the laminated synthwood. That hair never ceased to shock me whenever I paid attention to it, whether it was dragging along the floor or swaying gently in the chill winter breeze.

My elder sibling rolled her eyes in a stereotypical gesture of disappointment. "Oh, for the love of God…" Abruptly she leapt to her feet, making Miku jolt backwards in surprise. "Alright. Both of you. Up. _Now._ " Her command was so direct and the tone of her voice was so assertive that I could not resist. A small portion of me felt like I was back in primary school. I too leapt to my feet and snapped to attention, grimacing in pain and almost falling over as my mechanical leg bashed into my fleshy one. "Christ, John, be _careful_." With what seemed like great reluctance, Miku too clambered to her feet.

"Okay, young ones," Elizabeth commanded, stepping out in front of us. I snorted derisively at the way she described us. No young one was I! "John, quiet. You're younger than me." Had she just read my mind? "Okay, I need to speed this little realisation up. Neither of you knows what's about to happen. For all you know, I'm about to unzip myself and reveal to you that I am the Lord Jesus Christ reborn," I heard Miku giggle at this, but she kept most of her self-control for once. I too smiled. "I'm, uh, I'm not. If anything, I'm the antichrist - but I digress. Okay, both of you. Stand next to each other."

I took a long sidestep toward Miku, speculative as to what was about to happen. I tried to tell her thoughts from her expression, but it was stoic and I could find no clues or hints. Miku too sidestepped, both of us keeping Elizabeth firmly within our sights. The moving mass of teal hair in my peripheral vision was distracting to say the least. "Turn toward each other." Simultaneous, we did as we were told, pivoting neatly on our heels through ninety degrees. Our timing was near-perfect, and I was of no doubt as to who's mistake had skewed it a little - mine.

Elizabeth took a step forward, paying full attention to Miku instead of me. "Now, Miku, my dear girl," She began, fabricating the atmosphere of a noblewoman in her tone and intonation. "By standing directly here, one single pace away from my dear younger Brother, what is it in your heart that you wish to do? What action immediately strikes your fancy? Effect it. Carry it out."

Miku looked up at me with a dazzlingly aquiline sapphire eyes, as if gazing directly into my most likely pitch-dark soul. I gulped, feeling as if she could read my mind through my expression as I often did to others. There was something more to this situation that I was picking up on.

Abruptly, Miku stepped toward me and wrapped her arms around my torso, resting her head on my chest. I was certain that she could feel, no, _hear_ my heart beating like a rhythmic drum of life. "As a father, a brother, a friend, John…" Miku mumbled, closing her eyes and listening carefully. "As a father, a brother, and a friend, I love you."

And there it was. Shakily, one of my hands stroked her hair softly. "I… yeah."

"See?" Elizabeth said with a wide grin. "That wasn't so hard."

"Easy for you to say," I grunted, trying not to think too much.

"It's weird, though."

"How so?"

My sister folded her arms thoughtfully, putting her weight through one leg in a way that skewed her upper body slightly. "She likes you more than I thought."

"Well, that's just fucking brilliant," I replied sardonically, drawing a laugh from both of the girls. I sighed deeply.


	22. Penultimate

I was trying my best to avoid thinking about the revelation from earlier as I resumed my research into Yamaha. I had already skimmed through the products, finding nothing noteworthy even in the hour I had spent. Now I had moved on to facilities, everything from its storage warehouses scattered around the world to the company's HQ in Hamamatsu, Japan. Mainly I was trying to locate a facility that was relatively close.

As much as I tried, I couldn't flush Miku's statement out of my mind. 'As a father, a brother, and a friend, I love you.' It sent a shiver down my spinal chord just from thinking about it, and I wasn't sure why. It was a platonic, familial kind of love, but it was nevertheless strange to think that an android loved me. It wasn't exactly disturbing; just a pleasant curiosity. I hadn't been sure that Miku was even capable of loving people, and as it turned out she could love a person as a member of her family. I don't know what I had been expecting. I hadn't expected her to not be capable of that kind of emotional attachment, but didn't really think that she was capable either.

I sighed, trying in vain to push the chain of thought from my mind, or to snap it into pieces before it became a problem. Now was not the time to be faffing around with errant thoughts of machines and love, now was the time for research.

It wasn't working. I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Miku was somewhere else in the library, reading some fiction. She had been fine with me leaving her by herself just as long as she knew where I was. It seemed that, in the relatively short time I had been with her, Miku had matured somewhat. Not necessarily very much, but even a small amount was better than not at all.

I started idly scanning through a sheet as I considered the innumerable possibilities of the future as I had done many times before. What was to happen when we found Miku's past? Would she stay or would she go? What career would she pursue; if any? Would she return to Japan?

With a grunt of dissatisfaction, I rose to my feet to find Miku, shaking the blood back into my leg. I had been sitting down in one position for the best part of an hour, and my arteries seemed to have shut down somewhat. Ignoring the gentle hissing of my prosthetic leg as I walked, I set off through winding corridors of bookshelves to locate the android wherever she may be.

People glanced as I passed them, no doubt silently enquiring as to what the placid seething noise that occurred as I went by. Of course, then they saw the three-toed claw of my augmetic foot, and went about their business once more. I let out a sigh as quietly as I possibly could.

It took me a mere moment after that to ascertain Miku's whereabouts, seeing a flash of teal hair in my peripheral. She was sat down in a quiet corner, reading relatively large book - but was it fiction or non-fiction?

I approached, and she noticed me, glancing up from the book and giving me a little wave before returning her attention to reading.

"What're you reading?" I enquired, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Lord of the Rings."

I nodded, appreciating the excellent choice. I hadn't expected her to be in to books like that. "Interesting choice. It's quite an old series, over a century in age."

Miku's eyes widened noticeably. "That makes me feel really young."

I chuckled softly. "You don't know the half of it." Briefly, I checked the watch strapped to my left wrist. "Twenty minutes, alright?"

The android nodded, casting her gaze back onto the book. Abruptly, she sighed and closed the pages with a snap. I found myself flinching at the noise. "It's not that good, really. I haven't read many books, but… Eh."

I frowned. So, she wasn't into books like that. Perhaps she had just been testing the waters? "You can't discard it if you've not read much. Give it a little more time."

"I've read 5,726 words. I think I've seen enough."

I blinked as Miku surreptitiously reminded me of her mechanical nature. Shaking the reminder from my head, I nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. You've read 5k words."

Miku frowned in incomprehension. What part of my sentence had she failed to ascertain? "5k?"

Oh. Of all things, that was not one of them I had been expecting to explain to anybody ever. "It's a colloquially shortened form of 'five kilo', kilo meaning 'thousand.'"

The android stood from her chair, nodding understandingly as she placed the book back into its place on the matte-black synthwood shelf. "So… more like 6k words."

She was correct, of course - 5,700 and something was closer to 6k than to 5k. I shook the train of thought from my head before it could travel for any longer and waste my time. "I've been looking for Yamaha facilities close to home, and as of yet I've been unable to locate one within a hundred kilometres. Care to join me? I could always use an android's superior analytical gaze."

Miku beamed at me in acceptance of my offer, thought that might have been because of the subliminal compliment I'd laced into it. "Of course."

There were more glances as I passed the other inhabitants of the library, though this time I knew for certain that it wasn't me they were looking at, but rather the girl following me. I wasn't surprised, never was, when people stared at Miku. However, just as before, they took only a moment before returning to whatever book they were reading.

Miku and I spent the next twenty minutes of our collective lives attempting to locate any Yamaha facility nearby, and we spectacularly failed.

"Bloody hell," I murmured to myself, watching the last fifteen seconds tick down until we had to go. "What a waste of time…" Miku, however, was still completely absorbed in trying to find a useful morsel of information, her sapphire irises ablur with movement.

Five seconds. She seemed to focus on something, her eyes immediately locked at one target instead, one phrase whereas before they were moving faster than I could follow.

Three seconds. Miku smiled, obviously having found something noteworthy.

At the last second, Miku swept a forelock from her brow. She cast me a disturbingly daring look. "I've got it." Swiftly, she placed the sheet on the table in front of me, and pointed me to our answer.

It was less than five kilometers away, a little too far to comfortably walk but certainly within reason in terms of traveling by vehicle. I grinned openly, nodding at Miku's discovery. "Bloody brilliant." I put a hand on her head, ruffling her hair in a vaguely affectionate manner. "What did I say? Superior analytical gaze. I knew you'd find something."

Miku made a noise of distinct satisfaction, and my smile grew just that tiny bit wider. She could be played like a game. The next noise she made was one of confusion. "Why did you need to find that out anyway?"

Ah, of course she hadn't put the pieces together. "We're looking for answers, yes?"

Miku nodded in her customary vigorous way. "And?"

"Instead of scrabbling about with scraps of paper," I began, gesturing to the assortment of files and papers scattered on the desk. "Why not go straight…" My finger tapped down at the name of the facility Miku had found. "...to the source."

"That's brilliant…"

I shrugged idly. Was she trying to turn the tables on me? "I do try. To be honest, I'm rather shocked you hadn't already thought of it."

"Stop it."

And now she was confusing me. Hopefully, she wouldn't continue down that road. "Stop what?"

"Stop… stop complimenting me. It's… embarrassing."

I fought hard to contain my laughter, and thankfully I won. "I'd say it was quite flattering, actually."

Ignoring me, Miku stared hard at the sheet with our chosen facility on it. "It's kind of far away though. How are we going to get there?"

Once more, I grinned openly, rubbing my hands together with glee. "We're going to take my motorbike."


	23. Finale

"And you're sure that this bike is going to work?" Miku inquired idly, looking at one of the bullet marks in the wall, a weighty reminder of SF-A2's attack.

"Of course it will - I restored it myself, and SF-A2 didn't shoot it." With a grin, I swept the cover from the motorbike, revealing its sleek matte-black and gunmetal-grey form to the cool air of my workshop. "This, Miku," I announced, enjoying the look of awe on her face, "This is my R6."

It took Miku a moment of stunned silence to recollect herself. "Looks more like a motorbike to me."

I snorted at her snarky comment. Even Miku had the capacity to be sarcastic, and that's what I liked about her. She was refreshingly different with each passing moment. "It's a Yamaha R6, more than twice as old as I am. I lovingly restored it with my own God damn hands. Converted the engine, buffed out the cowling… The whole nine yards."

"Impressive…" Miku responded, gingerly running her fingers along the edge of the seat. "That said, I've come to expect this sort of thing from you, really…"

I grunted in reply. "Don't compliment me."

"Why not?"

"It's rather awkward being complemented by a sixteen year old." I shook the notion from my head, dismissing it as best I could. I took the key from my pocket, slotting it into the ignition.

Miku looked rather disappointed. "Nothing happened."

"I haven't turned her on yet, calm down."

She pointed to my face for some reason. "You might want to take off the eyepatch first."

I had almost forgotten about that gauze eyepatch. Rather gingerly, I removed it, squinting in the seemingly bright light. Despite that, it immediately struck me that, yes, I could indeed see clearly. "Oh, that's bloody brilliant…"

"Huh?"

"I've missed having depth perception." With that, I mounted the bike, gunning the engine. Miku stepped back in shock as the powerful bike purred and roared.

"That thing sounds dangerous!" Miku cried over the rumbling thunder of the miniature explosions contained within the motorbike.

"In the wrong hands; it IS dangerous!" I answered, revving the engine again. I hadn't used this bike for far too long - it was good to be back in the seat. "Put your helmet on; and then would you kindly pass me mine?"

Moments later, we both had our helmets on, and Miku was sat behind me on the bike, her arms wrapped around my waist. I felt a rush of adrenaline as I gunned the engine one final time, kicking up the kickstand and accelerating out of the open doorway.

"Look out, Yamaha," I grinned, feeling Miku tighten her grip ever so slightly as we picked up speed and entered the open road. "Here comes trouble."

* * *

I brought the bike to a screeching halt, leaving a pair of barely visible black skid marks on the surface of the road. I kicked down the stand, and the bike leaned to one side slightly. After cutting off the engine, I removed the keys from the ignition as I unstrapped my helmet, dropping it beside the bike. Cautiously, I cast Miku a glance over my shoulder. She was mimicking my actions, also removing her helmet, a wild and windswept look in her eye. "See? That wasn't that bad, now, was it? Miku? Are you okay?"

"That was terrifying, exhilarating, exciting…" Miku responded, her helmet clattering onto the ground. "All at once. I don't really have any words to describe it."

I grinned, swinging myself off of the bike. "Sounds like you got an adrenaline rush to me." I offered a hand to assist her, which she gladly took.

"But, I'm an android, I don't… Hormones and stuff… I don't…" Miku looked flustered and shocked as she spoke, but not necessarily in a bad sense. It was the type of expression I'd seen on people who had just been on their first roller coaster, and had enjoyed it thoroughly. It was the look of a speed demon, an adrenaline junky. I found my respect for Miku grew a little with this realisation - there was more of a kindred spirit in her than I'd initially thought.

I cast my gaze toward the warehouse, an imposing structure with ribbed, gunmetal-grey walls. I felt Miku nudge my arm. "Well? What are we waiting for?"

"Well, we can't just walk in the front door, can we?"

Miku gave me a look that told me I was an idiot. "Then we just… you know… sneak in around the side…"

I took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye. "And you seriously expect us to NOT be seen?"

The android grinned wolfishly. "Just try to keep up."

I rolled my eyes. "Now, now, let's not be hasty." Miku groaned, then looked puzzled as I pulled an object from my pocket.

"What's that?"

Glancing down at the object in my hand, I took a deep breath. "Glock-18 handgun. Just in case." I sighed, silently comparing the matte black of the pistol to the gleaming silver hand it was held in. I gulped, casting my gaze back to Miku. She was practically buzzing with anticipation. "Hey, Miku?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Look, just incase something goes wrong, I…" I trailed off, glaring at the open sky.

Miku cocked her head quizzically. "What?"

I shook my head. "Nevermind. Let's go."

* * *

I stuck to the shadows, glancing left and right. If we were going to pull this off, we needed to stay hidden. I remained vigilant for any guards or security cameras - the last thing we needed was to be caught. Even with the limited sense of my right hand, I could feel the pistol in my iron grip, solid and heavy. It did nothing to calm my frazzled nerves, nothing to slow my rapid-fire heart.

That breathing noise was distracting, though. It may give away our location. "Miku," I hissed, shivering nervously. "Stop breathing so loudly."

"I don't have ambient breathing, remember?," She hissed back, her very presence like a red-hot coal. I was acutely aware of how dangerous our situation was. We were breaking the law here.

I realised that the heavy breathing was me. I tried to steady myself, but I could not do it. "Oh." Gulping, I scanned the walls for cameras, but I could see none. I nodded to Miku. "Okay, we're clear. Stick to the shadows."

She didn't answer, but obligingly did as she was told. We advanced silently, so quiet I could hear the soft hissing of my prosthetic leg. We came to either side of an open door. Before I could steal a glance, I saw a shadow cast through the door. It was growing - whoever or whatever cast that shadow was approaching fast.

I held my breath, drawing my pistol up and holding it with two hands, pointed up to present as little of a profile as possible.

It didn't work. The security guard saw me almost immediately. He opened his mouth to shout when a hand with blue-painted nails clamped it shut from behind and dragged him into the dark.

Miku held him down tightly, her grip unrelenting. The guard squirmed like a stuck pig, but Miku did not loosen her vice-like hold. She dug a finger into the side of his neck under his chin, and within seconds he stopped moving.

I was immobilised with shock. She's just performed a takedown on a trained security guard with almost professional precision - like she was some kind of video game character. How? "Is… Is he dead?" I asked in a low hiss, more out of curiosity than actual concern. I didn't think he was dead, but it always helped to make sure. I didn't want to have a murder on my hands.

Miku rolled her eyes. "No. I halted the blood flow in his carotid arteries to starve his brain of oxygen."

"And how, exactly," I began, glancing through the yawning doorway. It was a corridor, perpendicular to the door. "Did you know how to do that?"

Miku looked away, considering my question. Was this another of those weird things that she just kind of knew for no reason? It seemed unlikely - the position of the carotid arteries wasn't exactly common knowledge. "Do you remember that book on human anatomy I was reading on the morning before your father's funeral?"

Okay, so it  _wasn't_ one of those things. "Yeah?" She stared at me blankly, the expression telling me that I was missing an obvious point. A book on human anatomy... "Oh." That made sense in the end. I brought my arms a little closer to my body to try to keep myself warm. After our close encounter I was shivering even more.

Miku stood, concern painting her features. "Are you okay?"

I looked into the corridor again. It was still clear, and I couldn't see a camera. "No, I'm not okay." I looked her dead in the eye. "I'm fucking terrified."

Miku nodded and pointed up. "Roof."

I frowned. What was she on about? "What about the roof?" Surely she couldn't mean…

"Let's get on the roof. We're less likely to be spotted." Oh, God, she did. Exactly how were we meant to do that? Almost as if she was psychic, Miku pointed at a ladder that I had somehow neglected to notice.

"Ladder ex machina…" I grumbled, taking one final look through the open door before shutting it. That had been an awfully close call.

Miku was searching the currently comatose security guard for anything useful. "Did you say something?"

"No, nothing." I replied idly, glancing around. It dawned on me that I really didn't want to be here. I was risking everything I'd ever worked for. "What do we do with him?"

Miku chuckled in a very off putting way as she stood. "Leave him. He's out of the way and he'll be knocked out for a while." She had a point there.

The ladder was rather rudimentary, little more than a series of poles welded on to the wall. There wasn't even any guard railing. Miku nodded at it. "Go on."

"Ladies first." I blurted out.

Miku's expression was unreadable. "I'm wearing a skirt." Her voice was so incorrigible it made me cringe.

"And I had coffee this morning, what's your -" Her point got across a moment too late. "Oh." A skirt. Of course.

"Yeah. Exactly." Miku patted the ladder. "Go."

"Yes, ma'am." I responded simply. Now was not the time to be confrontational.

The ladder shook and groaned as I clambered up. I didn't like it. It felt as if the ladder was mere moments away from shearing from the wall and crushing us.

The roof was no better. It was slick with moisture, and my feet were struggling to find purchase. Occasionally there was a tiny screeching noise a my prosthetic foot skittered across the surface, the scraping of metal-on-metal kicking up tiny glowing parks. Miku slipped, falling forward and almost dragging me down with her as she grabbed a hold of me to halt herself.

I found myself waving my arms in a struggle to maintain my balance. It took me a moment to get it right. "You almost killed me."

"What?" Miku replied sheepishly. "No, I didn't."

I took a deep breath. Sometimes, she could be so insightful, other times she could be an absolute moron. "I almost fell off. That fall…" I glanced over the edge. "...could potentially kill me."

"Oh." She didn't let go. I struggled onward.

"Are you afraid of heights?"

Miku hesitated. "No?"

I repeated myself. So did she.

"It's the sudden stop at the end, isn't it?"

Again, Miku hesitated. I felt her grip tighten. "That's not what I meant, but… I guess?"

I gulped, most of my effort dedicated to  _not_  dying. "You've got nothing to worry about. Your bones don't break with a thousand Newtons of pressure applied."

I felt, rather than saw, Miku nod. "I just don't want to fall. It's… It's undignified."

"We're sneaking around in a warehouse roof and you're worried about being indignified? I'd ask what was wrong with you, but…" I trailed off, trying to avoid the tetchy subject before it could blow up in my face.

Miku pointed at something. "There! A panel!" She let go, scrambling past me. I extended my arm, warning her to slow down lest she fall, but she took no heed. Twice she almost fell over, her eagerness far outweighing her common sense. I cringed both times.

Miku grabbed a tight hold of the panel, pulling with all her might. Though her arms were thin, I could still see whatever served as her muscles flaring with effort. After a moment's struggle, two bolts popped from the panel, and it started to bend. Like it was a can of sardines, the panel was being rolled up. A moment later, the last two bolts gave way and the panel popped off of the roof with a tremendous clang. A bolt rolled past me, skittering across the damp surface. Another came to rest at my foot. Briefly, I glanced down at it, and gulped. The bolt was warped and bloated - it had been welded to the roof.

"It's dark inside," Miku observed as I approached, setting the panel aside as she peered into the murk. "I don't think anybody is in there." Before I could stop her, she lowered her legs down, sitting briefly on the edge of the abyss before dropping in.

"Oh, for the love of…" I leaned over, staring down into the inky blackness. "What's down there?"

I watched as Miku peered intently into the shadows. There was an element of suspicion about her. "There's something in here. A lot of them, equally spaced apart, about as tall as I am. Can't tell what they are, too dark. I think it's safe though, no guards or anything."

I dropped my legs down, perching on the edge. I only realised that the drop was dangerously far when my momentum was irresistible. For a moment, I was in freefall, speeding toward the ground. This was going to hurt, badly. I clamped my eyes shut and braced for the worst.

To my surprise, I did not hit the floor and break. I landed on something relatively soft - two things, in fact. I opened my eyes. Miku was staring at me, the concern on her features clearly visible. She was also very close. So close, in fact, that I could only see her upper torso.

It was then that I realised that Miku had  _caught_  me. "Are you okay?" Her voice reverbed oddly around me.

"The hell?" Abruptly, Miku let go. I hit the floor with a thump. "Ow! What was that for?"

Miku glared down at me. "You didn't thank me."

I glared back at her, rising to my feet. "I'm not about to thank you now that you've dropped me, am I?" The room was cold, and in the dim light offered by our make-shift entrance I could just see my breath condensing into little clouds in front of me.

She pouted at me. My argument was sound. "Shut up," Miku grumbled. "We've got work to do."

With that, Miku grabbed me by the hand and dragged me with her into the darkness. It took us a few seconds to find a wall. I could just make out the outline of Miku fumbling around at the wall with her free hand.

"What are you doing?" I asked incredulously.

"Looking for a light switch. Isn't it obvious? I want to see what's in here."

I frowned. She'd never find one, not in this light. "The odds of you finding a switch in this light are -"

Miku's hand had stopped moving. "100 percent."

Had she seriously found one? "No way."

Miku nudged me with her elbow. "Yes way."

Click. The lights flickered into life, strobing on and off for a brief moment before a more constant light cast the room in a fluorescent white glow.

"You know something?" I asked, staring at the wall. "I don't want to turn around. You know what I mean?"

I heard Miku gulp, though whether or not it was in fear or anticipation I couldn't tell. I didn't know that she could do that. It had been a week, and yet I still had so much to learn about her. "Me neither. I feel like I really don't want to see it, whatever it is."

I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Well, there's no avoiding it now. Everything we've done up until now had lead up to this point. Ready?"

Miku nodded. "Ready."

Still holding hands, we turned around.

Miku was standing in front of me, several dozen times over. It was honestly one of the most disturbing sights to ever have met my eyes. I was going to remember this scene for many years to come, perhaps for my entire life, this I could tell. In all my years, this was not something I had ever expected to experience.

There were fifty or so Mikus in the room, not including the one squeezing my hand tightly. Though none of these doppelgangers were facing us, there was a somber, tired mood generated by their mere presence, as if the the world recoiled at their existence.

It took me a moment to speak my mind. "What the  _fuck?!_ "

Miku's grip had been steadily tightening in the few moments since we had turned. By now, her hold genuinely hurt. She whimpered, unable to express her confusion, even in the crude way I had done.

"Miku, you're going to break my fingers." I informed her carefully. "Please let go."

She released me, trembling. Fearfully, I took a step forward. What the hell was going on here? why were there so many of her in the room? Were these  _all_  like her?

I leaned around one of the copies and jumped back as I saw that her eyes were open. She did not react, standing stock-still in the eerie breeze that seemed to ebb through the room. Curious, I waved my hand in front of her face. Again, the doppelganger did not react. I took another look at her face. Her eyes were half lidded and glazed over. "Completely unconscious…" I muttered, frowning at my discovery.

"J-John?" Miku stammered. I had almost forgotten that she was here.

I took a step back, trying to come to terms with the situation, and failing. "Yeah?"

Miku took a hold of my arm. She was shaking, obviously frightened out of her skin. "I'm scared."

I looked from Miku to the others. I was so confused. What was going on? Why would there be multiple version of her, all in one room? How many more were there? "Why? What  _is_  this?"

Miku buried her face in my side, afraid to look. "I don't know."

"It's… It's like…" I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Then it struck me. "It's like mass production." I heard Miku gasp, instantly grasping the situation.

"It all makes sense now." She glanced up at me tearfully.

Now  _I_  was getting afraid. "What?"

Miku took a deep, raspy, terror-ridden breath even though doing so was near-agony. "I'm a commercial product."

It made too much sense. Miku was a commercial product, available to purchase. Sentience was for sale. I could see quite plainly the reason why Miku seemed to have tensed up immensely. She wasn't a person - she was a thing to be bought, a tool to be used. A vocaloid, doomed to be used and then thrown away. It was monstrous. It was a disgusting thing to even consider, and to see it first hand like this…

Her cutesy, innocent appearance was a selling point. Her cheerful bashfulness was a selling point. Her skills and singing voice were selling points. Miku could be bought. She was nothing more than a way for the company to earn more money.

"I'm… just another copy…" I felt a warm drop fall on to my hand, knowing exactly what it was. As much as I wanted to comfort her, I found myself lost for words.

There was a tiny squeal of metal on metal as my mechanical hand clenched shut. I switched my pistol from my left hand to my right. Trying to show some semblance of sympathetic affection, I stroked Miku's hair with the only warm hand I had. For a moment, her whimpering stopped. "You're no copy."

Miku glanced up at me, a tiny glint of hope shining through the despair. "Huh?"

"To me, I mean. You're no copy. There is only one Miku - and that's you." Miku smiled weakly, the tears still dripping from her face, leaving little dark spots on the concrete floor. An errant thought struck me. "Oh. Bollocks."

"What?" Miku sniffed, still clutching my arm.

"How do we get out of here?" I looked around, unable to really see past all the doppelgangers. "We're obviously not going back the way we came." I added after glancing up at the hole in the ceiling.

Miku pointed across the room. On the far wall was a door which I had somehow failed to notice, a way out. "There. A door." There were two problems with that. One, what was to say we wouldn't be immediately set upon by security when we left the room? Two, we would have to go straight through this crowd of clones, and that was not something I felt comfortable with doing.

However, there were no other options available. I took a few steps forward, but paused when I reached the first line of copies. Something about the breeze in the room wasn't right. I glanced around at the ceiling, and could see no fans or ventilation. Curious at the impossibility of the breeze, I stuck my hand in front of one of the copies' mouth.

Disturbed by what I had felt, I immediately withdrew my hand. I started to advance briskly toward the exit. "We need to get out of here."

The tone of my voice made Miku's head dart up. "What? What's wrong?"

"They're breathing."

There was a glint of terror in Miku's eyes when I told her this, and quite frankly I too was terrified. "But… I don't…"

"I know." Only a few more metres to the exit, barely more than seven steps until we were out of this nightmarish room. I wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. This room made me feel sick to my core. It was a perfect example of humanity's inhumanity. This was a breach of human rights and then some. Had the company not considered the implications of their products? The company could go to court for this - international court, too. This breach went way beyond the public sector, perhaps even beyond the corporate sector as well.

My hand was an inch from the door handle when it flung open of its own accord. A dazzling light shone through, blinding me, and before I could even consider reacting something cold and incredibly solid connected with the side of my head.

I was sent sprawling backwards on to the floor. I heard my pistol clatter to the ground some distance away. Swaying unsteadily, I staggered to my feet like an inebriate, feeling blood trickle down my face and my prosthetics twitching as the world swam around me. It took me only one glance to work out who the perpetrators were.

My gaze was met by a blank face with coral-pink eyes, framed by salmon pink hair - something I recognised all too well. I felt a dull phantom ache in my prosthetic leg as I stared in horror at the emotionless face of SF-A2 codename Miki.

We'd been discovered. A vocaloid with hair that was a bright cobalt-blue tried to restrain Miku by looping his arms around hers and lifting her up from behind. For a moment, Miku was suspended mid-air, her legs kicking and flailing, before she shook loose one of her arms and her elbow smashed into the vocaloid's face.

Miku scrambled a few feet forward before two incredibly thin wires lanced into her back, shot from the hand of a tall, purple-haired vocaloid. There was a brief look of shock on her face before the wires sparked into life. Her widened eyes seemed to clamp shut and her mouth twisted into a grimace as there was a series of sharp, rapid snapping noises as the taser delivered an incredible voltage into her mechanical body. After a moment of her limbs being locked up with the shock, Miku fell limp. Another vocaloid stepped toward me, lifting her baton for another strike.

I tried to lift my arm to protect myself, but she was quicker. The baton smacked into the top of my head with a dull thud that left my ears ringing.

I crashed to the concrete once more, my vision flashing an intense white for the briefest moment. When my sight returned, through a semiconscious murky haze I saw Miku extending her hand toward me. She was flat on her stomach, her eyes unfocused and half-lidded. Two tiny needles were jammed into the small of her back.

"M...Mi...ku…" I wheezed, reaching out for her hand. I felt a flare of pain in my back as two needles lanced in to me. What followed was a flash of white-hot pain, then nothingness.


	24. Epilogue

My hand shaking, I poured the contents of the bottle into the glass. The alcohol was pungent, that was for sure. I needed it.

I gulped, moving the glass off of the piece of paper I had been given earlier. An eviction notice. This was it. Game over. Tabula rasa. Blank slate. New start. Johnathan Christopher Moody was no more.

The company, Yamaha, had covered it all up in an instant. Miku was gone. I was being forcibly moved, my name was being changed. I feared not for myself, of course, despite the threats against me - I feared for my family, because they were the ones who had been jeopardised by the threats, and I feared for Miku, who had simply disappeared without a trace. If I were to speak a word of my discovery, the company would come down on me and my family. There was no way around it. I had to stay silent, and if I didn't…

It wasn't worth thinking about, or even considering. It was obvious what they were going to do - it would be classic villainous stuff, like you see in the movies.

However, when I thought about it, the company may have been ruthless but it was also capricious. Yamaha was unpredictable, almost alien in the way it tended to react - or, at least, unpredictable to me as I was used to dealing with people, not companies. It was impossible for me to tell directly what they would do - but either way it would not be pleasant.

I ran my fingers along the edge of the stitches on the side of my head. It still ached, ever so faintly. I glanced into the living room. Most of my belongings were already gone.

I glared down at my right hand, covered by a leather glove. Slowly, I peeled it off, revealing the dull steel and tungsten beneath. On an impulse, I scrunched the eviction notice into a tight ball and threw it over my shoulder.

I picked up the glass with my other hand, but paused before it reached my mouth. I had finally decided what I was to do from here on out. It would be a difficult path to follow, but it was the only path worth following.

Setting the glass back down on the table, I stared at the crumpled ball that used to be an eviction notice. "Okay, Yamaha…" I whispered, straightening up. "I'm coming for my daughter."


End file.
